


Laying Waste To Halloween

by stolen_arts



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Anxiety, Child Abuse, Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, Coming of Age, Depression, Dissociation, Drug Abuse, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gabe Ugliano's A+ Parenting, Healing, High School, I just want to give kid percy a hug :/, Mental Health Issues, Poverty, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Slow Burn, They're In Love Your Honor, Trauma, all the childhood cuteness and teenage angst, this follows percy and annabeth from the start of their lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 126,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27306757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stolen_arts/pseuds/stolen_arts
Summary: On her tenth birthday, Annabeth stumbles over a boy on the side of the road who has a black eye and everything to hide. From then on, her life is irrevocably intertwined with his.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 1162
Kudos: 619





	1. sweet figs and lemon trees

**ACT ONE**

_"Imagine that the world is made out of love. Now imagine that it isn't." —Richard Siken_

* * *

It's the summer of 2003 and Annabeth has just turned ten. She's feeling pretty proud of herself, actually. Being born in July is a drag when almost all your classmates get to have their birthdays before yours, but she's _finally_ caught up. She got a puppy for her birthday, too—a fluffy golden retriever that's already two months old. His name's King, and he's currently tugging her along by his lead, nose to the floor as he takes in all the intriguing smells of the Virginian country path they're walking along.

Helen told her not to go too far, to stay in sight of their estate house. Annabeth rolled her eyes at that, but Helen's look of annoyance told her she would regret it if Helen had to drive out to find her if she got lost.

King picks up the pace, drawing a surprised laugh out of Annabeth. Even though he's only a puppy, Annabeth's light enough that he almost drags her over. They hurtle along the road, Annabeth's sandals slipping with every other step on the loose gravel.

Eventually, Annabeth runs out of breath. "Slow down, King!" Mercifully, he does just as they reach a fork in the road. Annabeth notices a boy about her age sitting by the wayside, elbows resting on his knees. His red, faded t-shirt is torn-up and his left eye has swollen up with an indigo bruise. There's a battered bike lying on the ground next to him. He doesn't seem to notice her. "Hey, how'd you get that black eye?" she asks.

The boy looks up, startled. "Oh, um..." He looks left and right, as though searching for an escape. "Fell off my bike."

Annabeth folds her arms. "You must not be very good at riding it. My dad says I'm _great_ on a bike."

The boy looks offended. He stands up, blowing a strand of his raven hair out of his face. "Excuse you. I could beat you in a race anytime."

She rolls her eyes. "Sure you could, big man."

"You're not afraid to speak your mind, are you?"

Annabeth puts a hand on her hip. "And that's a bad thing because…?"

The boy laughs, sheepish. "I guess it isn't. I'm Percy, by the way. What's your name?" He holds out an oil-stained hand.

Sceptical, she shakes it. "Annabeth," she replies. Standing closer to him, she can see how green his eyes are. The left one looks even greener, contrasting with his purple bruise. She opens her mouth to say something, but King interrupts her with a loud, insistent bark.

Percy seems enamoured by him. He crouches down, running a hand through his golden fur. "I like your dog," he remarks. "What's its name?"

Annabeth grins. "King. I got him today—for my birthday. He's cute, right?"

"Yeah." Percy ruffles King's fur for a moment longer before standing up again. "It's your birthday? How old are you?"

"Ten," Annabeth says proudly. "What about you?"

He looks sheepish. "Ten," he says. Then, quieter, "In a month."

Annabeth laughs. "Ha! I'm older than you. Better respect your elders."

He frowns at her. "You're not _that_ much older than me."

"Whatever." Annabeth looks on down the road. They're pretty close to town. "Wanna walk King with me for a while? We could go get an ice-cream."

"An ice-cream?" He looks down. "I don't have any money."

Annabeth shrugs. "I'll pay. I've got some birthday money with me." King tugs on his lead, pulling her forward. She turns back over her shoulder, beckoning Percy. "Come on!"

* * *

The two of them get on like a house on fire—Annabeth starts hanging out with Percy almost every day. They go on bike rides, racing over the rolling Virginian hills before collapsing on the grass, sprawled in a heap. They walk King together in the mornings, eager to chat. Annabeth is somewhat enchanted by his wry smiles and dumb jokes. His companionship feels warm and comfortable, like a well-worn coat.

Sometimes, Annabeth is afraid their friendship will expire at the end of the summer. What if they lose contact when they go back to school? Percy never expresses any concerns like that, though, so Annabeth decides it's better to enjoy the moments as they come rather than waste time worrying about the future.

The first time Percy visits their estate house, he can't stop looking around, wide-eyed. "What's so interesting?" Annabeth asks, curious.

He stares at her, incredulous. "It's all so big. Your garden's massive and your house is a freaking _mansion._ I wanna live here."

She grins, pleased that he likes it. She's never seen her home as anything special, but Percy's words make her bubble with happiness. "Wait 'til you see the swing," she boasts.

Percy's jaw drops. "There's a swing?"

Annabeth's dad is pleased to see that she's made a new friend, while Helen fusses over Percy's torn clothes, fading black eye and unbrushed hair. "Dear God, who's looking after you?" she fusses as she presses a bottle of homemade lemonade and a Tupperware filled with food into Percy's hands. "Here you are, darling. Go eat in the sun. If you want any more, ask. You look like you could do with some more meat on your bones."

Percy stares at the food with reverence. "Thank you," he says carefully, as though he's worried it'll be taken off him at any minute.

Helen gives him a fond look and ruffles his hair. "Don't be silly. You deserve it, both of you. Right, Annabeth?"

She grins. "Yep. Let's go!" Dragging Percy down the porch steps, she breaks into a run. "I know a place we should sit."

Annabeth leads Percy to a small wood by their estate. She collapses onto a mossy patch of ground, letting the sun wash over her. She sighs, closing her eyes. "It's so warm. I love it."

Percy sits down next to her in the shade, crossing his legs. He places their food gingerly between them and wipes his temple with his sleeve. "You're crazy. It should be illegal for it to be this hot."

Annabeth turns her head, not bothering to sit up. "Wimp."

He rolls his eyes. "Just 'cause I don't wanna melt doesn't make me a wimp."

"Whatever," she replies. Propping herself up on her elbow, she unscrews the lemonade's cap and offers it to Percy. "Here, try some."

With a murmur of thanks, he raises it to his lips. As he tips the bottle back, his face lights up. "Wow! That's amazing."

"Right? Me and Helen made it. We have a lemon tree in the greenhouse."

Percy hands her the bottle. Shaking his head, he says, "Only you would have an actual lemon tree."

"We also grow oranges. Figs, too. Though I don't really like them all that much—they're too sweet."

Percy's brow furrows. "What's a fig?"

Annabeth giggles. "A weird kind of fruit. My dad eats them all the time, even though Helen tells him off 'cause they're really fibrous."

"Fibrous?"

"I asked her, and apparently it's something that makes you poop loads."

Percy wrinkles his nose. "Why would you grow it, then?"

"Exactly! I've tried telling her the same thing."

They sit there for a while, talking and laughing. Eventually, they dive into the Tupperware. Helen's packed them PB&J sandwiches, all carefully cut into triangles with the crusts sliced off. The sound Percy makes when he bites into his is obscene. "I would give my life for this sandwich."

"Same," Annabeth decides. They eat the sandwiches quickly, worn out by all the running-around they've been doing. When they're finished with all the food and lemonade, Annabeth gets up, stretching. "Okay. You wanna go on the swing?"

Percy's face explodes into a grin. "That's not even a question."

They return the empty bottle and Tupperware to Helen, declaring that they're going on the swing by the hay bales. Helen grimaces. "Be safe, alright? That swing's high enough that you could break your leg if you fell."

"We'll be careful, don't worry," Annabeth yells over her shoulder, already leading Percy over to the huge, wooden barn next to their house.

"What do you use the barn for?" Percy asks as Annabeth slides the bolt open.

"Just storage," she replies. "It's left over from when there used to be a farm here."

"For animals?"

Annabeth nods. "Yeah. We still have a couple of cows, though." She grunts, pushing the heavy door open. It creaks at first, but soon complies.

Annabeth walks inside first, Percy following behind her. "Woah."

The ceiling of the barn arches over them, held up by large wood panels. Dozens of hay bales are stacked up on either side of the barn, creating walls. A rope hangs from the ceiling, tied over a support beam. A wooden seat is attached to the bottom, hanging several metres up in the air. "C'mon. We gotta climb up to it," she tells him, already pulling herself up onto a hay bale.

The swing hangs a metre out from the top hay bale. Percy has to hold onto Annabeth's arm to stop her from falling as she hangs right over the edge to grab the wooden seat.

Once it's in her hand, they fall back, laughing. "We can't let Helen know we did that," she says. "I'm meant to use a stick to get it."

Percy nods solemnly, raising a finger to his lips. "I won't tell."

"Wanna go first?" she asks.

He shakes his head quickly. "No, you go."

With a cry of glee, Annabeth tightens her grip on the rope and leaps out, landing on the swing in mid-air. She flies across the barn, knuckles white from holding on. Her feet thud on the hay bales on the other side. Pumping her fist, she lets out a victorious whoop. "Yes!" she crows.

Percy's grinning. Annabeth doesn't think she's ever seen him so excited. "Okay, swing back! I want a try."

Time becomes nothing as they swing back and forth, more and more daring every time. The sunlight filtering through the cracks in the barn's walls slowly peters out as evening descends, but neither of them notice the day slipping away.

Finally, they jump off one last time, both of them sitting on the swing. It's chaotic; their legs fly everywhere as they swing wildly, clinging onto each other for dear life. "We're gonna die," Percy groans as Annabeth kicks off from the hay bale again, laughing.

Below them, Helen steps through the barn's door. Hands on her hips, she shakes her head with an amused smile. "It's nearly seven," she calls. "When does Percy need to be home? I can give him a lift as I need to pick Bobby and Matthew up from their guitar lessons."

They stumble off the swing, righting themselves. Percy's face has gone ashen. "Seven?" he says. "Oh, God. I was meant to be back an hour ago." He quickly climbs down, Annabeth close behind him.

"I'm sure it's fine," she says. "Your parents will understand, right?"

Percy clenches and unclenches his fists, breaths coming fast. "I need to be back," he mumbles. "I've missed dinner."

Annabeth takes his arm gently. Why's he acting like this? "Stop stressing," she says. "It isn't that late."

"Don't worry, darling," Helen says. "I'll drive you home now. Where do you live?"

At that, Percy shakes his head violently. "No. No, thank you. I've got my bike."

"I'd rather you didn't cycle back alone at this hour. I can put your bike in the trunk—"

"It's fine, I don't want to trouble you. Thank you for having me," he says. "I really liked the sandwiches."

Helen reaches out, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Percy, I'm telling you that this isn't any trouble. It's unsafe for you to cycle home. Please, let me help."

Percy stiffens at her touch, but then closes his eyes and relaxes a second later. "Okay," he mumbles, but it's almost soundless. "Thank you."

Helen smiles. "There we are. It's all gonna be okay. Annabeth, go get your shoes on. You can come too."

Percy's head whips towards her. "Wait. I don't want Annabeth to come."

She folds her arms, hurt. "Why not?"

"Just…" Percy hunches his shoulders, growing small. "Please don't."

Annabeth glares at him. "Don't be stupid. I wanna come. Helen, tell him I'm coming."

There's a complicated look on Helen's face. She's looking at Percy, and something like understanding crosses her eyes. "Actually, Annabeth, could you go help your father with the dishes? He's been working all day and I bet he's tired."

Annabeth glares at Helen. "But—" she stutters. "Why?"

Helen shoots her a look. "I'll see you in a bit, dear. Come on, Percy. Let's go get your bike in the car."

Percy seems apologetic. "I'll see you soon, Annabeth." He pulls her into a hug, resting his head briefly on her shoulder. "Bye," he finishes. With that, Helen takes him to the car.

Annabeth is left standing in the barn, upset and alone.

* * *

A whole week passes without any glimpse of Percy. Annabeth slowly grows more and more frustrated, unable to work out why Percy's suddenly avoiding her. One evening, she vents her frustrations to her dad while watching him chop vegetables. "I don't get it," she groans, languishing on one of the stools next to the island. "Doesn't he miss me?"

Her dad chuckles, picking up the chopping board to scrape the vegetables into the saucepan on the heat behind him. "I'm not sure I have any answers, Annabeth," he replies. "Do _you_ miss him?"

"Obviously. But he's made himself clear—he doesn't want me around. I just wanna know why."

"Have you tried talking to him?"

"I _can't_ try talking to him. I don't even know where he lives." She slumps forward, resting her chin on her forearms. "Another thing he's hiding from me," she mutters.

Frederick stifles another laugh. "I'm sure everything will be fine, love. In the meantime, will you wash these potatoes for me?"

Annabeth reluctantly gets down from her stool. When she washes the potatoes, she accidentally sprays water everywhere with how ferociously she does it.

Frederick sighs, disappointed. "Annabeth, really? You don't need to imbue the poor potatoes with your anger, righteous as it may be."

Annabeth grins. "Whoops."

* * *

The next morning, Helen wrenches Annabeth's warm quilt off her, waking her up. Hands on her hips, she demands, "Walk King. I've got guests coming over first thing and he's way too excitable."

Annabeth covers her head with her pillow. "Can't you do it?" she mumbles.

Helen grabs her pillow, forcing her to fully emerge from dreamland. "No," she says. "He's your dog. Take responsibility." With that, she shoves King's blue lead into Annabeth's hands and storms out, calling, "Oh, and don't forget to put your laundry away!" Bleakly, Annabeth shuts her eyes again for a moment before groaning and swinging her feet out of bed.

Luckily, King isn't poor company. It's early, and the birds are only just relaxing into their morning song. Annabeth hums along with them, spirits somehow lifted. King pants, trotting along beside her. He's getting bigger, which Annabeth doesn't mind; it only means there's more dog to cuddle.

She walks through town, peering into shops. Most of them are still shut, though there's quite a few pedestrians walking about. It's not like Annabeth can buy anything, anyway—she already blew all her birthday money on buying treats for her and Percy.

 _Percy_. Just like that, her heart sinks again. Suddenly King's tail-wagging and playful barking is more annoying than endearing. She wishes the birds would shut up.

She turns the corner, walking past a mechanic's. A familiar figure walks out of it, dragging a mangled bike behind him. "Is that…?" she wonders. She grins, running towards the figure. "Percy!"

He turns around, startled by the sound of her voice. A slow smile spreads across his face. "Annabeth. Hi."

As he crouches to pet King, Annabeth folds her arms. "Is that all I get?" she asks crossly. "No explanation, just a measly _hi_?"

He looks embarrassed. "Sorry. I've, uh…been busy."

For the first time, Annabeth notices his split lip. "Gosh, that looks painful," she says. "What happened?"

He glances down to his bike. "Had an accident."

"You need to stop doing that," Annabeth tells him, gathering him into a hug. He's warm in her arms. "You must be the most clumsy person I know."

His resulting grin is crooked, marred by his sore lip. "That's me. The clumsiest."

"Is that why you were in there?" she asks, gesturing to the mechanic shop. "To get your bike fixed?"

He rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah. But they wouldn't fix it for me 'cause I don't have any money and I'm only ten."

Annabeth chews on the inside of her cheek. She hasn't realised his birthday's come and gone. "Happy birthday," she tells him. "When was it?"

"Yesterday," he says softly. "August 18th."

Annabeth is quiet for a moment. "I think my dad might be able to fix your bike," she offers. "He fixed Matthew's when he flew off a ramp."

Percy looks hopeful, but the expression is immediately dampened. "I can't ask your dad to do that for me."

Annabeth scoffs. "Don't be stupid. He won't mind. You need your bike to get to my place, anyway."

Percy looks confused. "I'm allowed to come back around?"

"Of course, dummy."

Percy lets his bike clatter onto the concrete, smiling ear to ear as he throws his arms around her. "I'm glad."

She enjoys the hug for a moment, then pushes him away. "But you better not ignore me for a whole week ever again."

Percy's still smiling. "I won't. I promise I won't."

They walk together back to Annabeth's estate. She's floating on the feeling of them being friends again, and is practically bouncing when they step through Annabeth's door. She lets King off his lead. "Hey, Helen! Percy's here!"

Percy looks a little uncomfortable as he wheels his broken bike through the hall, resting it against the banister. From here, they can hear the chatter of people in the kitchen—Helen's guests. "Are you sure this is okay?" he asks uncertainly.

She rolls her eyes. "Duh."

They walk into the kitchen. Helen beams when she sees them. "Oh, Percy! I was wondering when I'd see you around here again, darling."

He smiles, bashful. "Hi, Helen."

Two women are standing around the island, talking. Helen introduces them. "Annabeth, Percy, this is Georgie and Mya. They're my coworkers."

Georgie waves, while Mya grins. "Oh, how sweet. Is this the daughter you were telling us about, Helen?" Mya asks.

"Yeah," Annabeth says. "Do you want some lemonade? Me and Helen made it."

Georgie laughs, enamoured. "Thank you, but we're alright. Your stepmom's just fixing us some coffee before we all head out."

"Do you need anything, darling?" Helen asks.

"Is Dad working? Percy needs help fixing his bike."

Helen grimaces, offering Percy a sympathetic look. "How'd you break it?"

Percy looks uncomfortable. "Crashed it," he mumbles.

"Well, Frederick's out in the garage. He's off work today, so you're in luck."

Annabeth takes Percy and his bike to the garage. The sliding door is open, and Annabeth hears a loud thump, followed by her dad muttering a curse under his breath. "Dad?" She calls.

"Yeah?"

"Can you help us with something? It won't be long."

Frederick emerges from the garage, wiping a bead of sweat off his temple. His short, riotous blond curls are held back by a headband. "Oh, Percy," he says, surprised. "You and Annabeth made up, then?"

Annabeth glares at him as Percy shuffles his feet. "Shut _up,_ Dad. We need help fixing Percy's bike."

Percy shows him the bike. Frederick hums, rubbing his chin. "It's pretty badly damaged," he assesses, "but Matthew's was almost as bad. When did you break it?"

"Friday," Percy replies. _So, the day he was late home,_ Annabeth thinks. "I really appreciate this, by the way, sir," he adds.

Her dad laughs. "Wow, what lovely Southern manners," he remarks. "If only Annabeth was as polite as you."

She kicks his ankle, which succeeds only in drawing another laugh from him. "Sorry, darling. Now, let's see what we can do for this bike."

He takes some tools out, explaining how they work to Percy, who hangs onto his every word. Annabeth watches, intrigued. Instead of doing all the heavy lifting himself, her dad shows Percy what to do and lets him do it himself. "So he'll be in a better position to fix it next time," he explains to her.

It takes only half an hour to sort Percy's bike out. By the end, he's beaming. "Thank you, sir," he grins. He hops onto the bike and circles Annabeth, who bursts out laughing.

"Careful, or you'll crash it again," she warns him.

He rolls his eyes. "Nah, I won't."

He lets Annabeth sit on the seat, leaning forward on the pedals so there's room. "Hold on," he tells her.

"I could just go grab my own bike, you know."

"Yeah, but this'll be more fun!" With that, he pushes off and cycles hard towards Annabeth's gate. They fly through.

Annabeth squeals, holding onto Percy as tight as she can. "This is so dangerous!"

"It'd be boring if it wasn't," he calls over his shoulder. They go over a bump on the worn gravel path, jolting them. Still, they don't fall. Percy's a good cyclist.

They make it back to Annabeth's house in good time. He drops her off, flushed and laughing. "See you tomorrow," he says.

She smiles. "Of course. Don't be late."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Annabeth goes back inside, smiling like an idiot as she sits down at the kitchen counter. Helen throws a knowing look her way. "What?" Annabeth snaps.

Helen laughs. "Nothing, nothing."

When Annabeth goes to sleep that night, she dreams of purple bruises and split lips and the echoes of green, green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yep, it's Halloween and I'm here to introduce a brand new fic! I've been working my ass off on this for a couple months now and LO AND BEHOLD, IT'S HERE!
> 
> there's gonna be about 35 chapters of this beast and it'll probably round out at just over 100K words. Act 1 will follow percy and annabeth through their childhood years; Act 2 will follow them through high school; Act 3 will follow everything that happens next!
> 
> I'll be posting two chapters every week from now on—one on wednesday, one on sunday. I've already got about 30K written so I'll hopefully keep up. if those days change, I'll let you know. I hope you're as excited as I am for this fic and I'd love to hear your thoughts :)


	2. in the wake of realisation

The rest of the summer is a fever dream. She meets Percy every day that’s left in August in an effort to make the most of their dwindling summer, but neither of them dare to mention the uncertainty that lies with the impending arrival of September. Annabeth is going into her final year of elementary, but she and Percy don’t attend the same school. She doesn’t even know if they’re gonna go to the same middle school—Percy, as always, is frustratingly vague about his personal life. He still hasn’t let her visit his house or meet his family.

On the last day of August, she stands outside her house with King, waiting for Percy. A few minutes pass before she sees him cycle up the road. Something’s different; something’s wrong. Percy skids to a stop in front of her and clambers off his bike. His face is downcast, his shoulders hunched. “I can’t hang out today,” he tells her. “Sorry.”

“What? Why?” Annabeth stares at him for a moment before realising that he’s cradling his ribs. “Did you crash your bike again?”

His expression is foggy for a moment. He nods, a halting motion. “My parents want me home today.”

Annabeth doesn’t know what to think. “But they haven’t cared any other day.”

“Just…I’m sorry, alright?”

She folds her arms. Beside her, King starts whining. “Whatever. See if I care,” she mutters. Ignoring the ache in her chest, she turns the other way and starts off down the path in the opposite direction. Away from Percy.

She doesn’t even watch him cycle away.

* * *

School starts without much celebration. Annabeth makes a new friend, Piper, who sings in the school choir and recommends a new book to Annabeth every other day. Piper is funny in an interesting sort of way. Her dad’s a movie star, which earns her a certain degree of respect among the popular cliques. Neither of them are particularly outgoing, but they can laugh their heads off when they’re alone. Something about being in a crowd of people drains the fun out of everything, Annabeth thinks. She tells Piper this, who easily agrees.

One rainy day in October, Piper runs up to Annabeth in the hallway. Her dark eyes glint with excitement. “Guess what,” she demands.

Annabeth blinks at her, finding her energy exhausting this early in the morning. “What?”

“They’re asking for helpers at the harvest festival."

"So?"

"So, we’re signing up!”

Annabeth feels no less enlightened. “The harvest festival? Is that a Halloween thing?”

Piper stares at her. “You’re joking. You’ve been before, right?”

Annabeth sighs. She can tell Piper’s about to go into a spiel and would honestly rather she didn’t. “Okay, we can sign up. I guess it could be fun.” Piper grins, punching her arm. “Ow,” she says, emotionless.

“Of course it’s gonna be fun!” The bell rings, signalling that they need to head to class. “I’ll meet you at lunchtime to sign up. And we can play Mario Kart at yours after school, okay?”

Annabeth smiles, nods. She’s tired, but being with Piper will make her feel better no matter what. “Sounds good, Pipes. See you later.”

Piper grins over her shoulder, glancing back through a sheet of brown hair as she waves.

* * *

As the month wears on, thoughts of Percy cross Annabeth’s mind less and less. Her and Piper make another friend—Leo—who joins their year late. He’s a foster kid with a kind of haunted look in his eyes, but something about his demeanor never fails to lift the mood of everyone around him. The three of them make some semblance of a clique all of their own, a notion that’s strange to Annabeth. The sudden feeling of belonging isn’t dissimilar to that of being thrust in the deep end of a pool, tethered only by a rope. It feels a lot like being friends with Percy had felt.

Sometimes, Annabeth wonders if their summer friendship had been fated to fade away when fall came: a weak-willed animal unable to survive the winter months.

It’s October 30th. Though Halloween has always been Annabeth’s least-favourite holiday, she finds herself swept up in Leo and Piper’s excitement. They’ve spent the last couple days helping out with the harvest festival’s pumpkin carving stall, and the day is fading away into evening by the time Annabeth hauls the last pumpkin into the truck that’s bound for the field the festival’s being held in. She groans, flopping onto the floor as one of the adults closes the screen at the back of the truck. “I feel like I’ve aged sixty years. My back is literally one gigantic knot.”

Leo lands with a thump next to her, equally as exhausted. “If that ain’t the truth,” he mutters. His dark, corkscrew-curling black hair is all mussed up.

Annabeth turns her head to smile at Leo. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m actually excited for the festival.”

Leo pumps his fist. “I knew we’d get you in the spirit eventually! Just needed a bit of coaxing, that’s all.”

A few metres away, Annabeth hears Piper yell their names. “Quit relaxing in the dirt, you slackers, and get over here. There’s more to do.”

Leo shoots Annabeth a knowing look. “I’m surprised she hasn’t got out her canes and whips yet, to be honest.”

“I heard that!” Piper shouts.

The next day, the buzzing excitement in the air is practically tangible. Almost everyone in town is going to the festival. There’s a lot of chatter at lunchtime about what everyone’s dressing up as. Annabeth has never dressed up for Halloween in her whole ten years of living, so she feels fairly lost in these conversations.

Piper’s going as Wednesday Addams, which is a surprise to no one. Leo’s going as Ziggy Stardust, which is a surprise to everyone. “What’s scary about that?” Piper asks, wrinkling her nose.

Leo grins. “I’m gonna wear fangs. Also, the lightning strike on my face is gonna be painted in fake blood.” Annabeth has to give him points for originality.

“I still don’t know what I’m going as,” Annabeth mumbles, picking at her pasta. “It’s probably too late to find a costume, anyway.”

Piper hums, deep in thought. Suddenly, she jabs her fork at Annabeth. “I know what you should go as.”

“What?”

Piper pauses for effect. “Alice in Wonderland!”

“Uh…what?’

She slaps a hand on the table, making Leo drop the piece of ham he’d been messing with on his shoe. “Come on, it’s perfect. You’re blonde and everything!”

“So what?”

“You have the vibe. You’re bookish, smart, a little bit deranged.”

Annabeth turns to Leo for help. “Please, you must have a better idea than that.”

He shrugs. “I think she’s right. You fit the profile, if I’m honest.”

Annabeth sighs, sinking her head into her hands. “Where am I gonna find a blue dress, then?”

“A girl in my foster home is playing Alice in her school production next week,” Leo says. “She’ll let you borrow her dress, one hundred percent.”

Feeling a little relieved, Annabeth smiles into her pasta. “I could rock Alice,” she says slowly.

Leo and Piper exchange a glance, grinning. Piper says, “You definitely could.”

Helen drives the three of them to the festival. “I’ll be back to supervise in twenty minutes,” she tells them. “Don’t make too much trouble, alright?”

“We won’t,” they chorus.

Piper screams, “Thanks, Helen!” as she drives away.

Already, they can hear live music coming from the field. Annabeth feels slightly drunk on anticipation, and Leo seems to share the sentiment as he throws his head back and shouts, “Ladies, the night is young!”

They go to the stage first, drawn to the wild energy of the band playing. Annabeth is certain they’ve never played a gig outside Virginia, and as everyone around her is singing along to the lyrics she assumes they must be playing a cover rather than an original song. The three of them dance like maniacs, allowing themselves to be swept up in the crowd. Annabeth finds the swish of her blue Alice dress rather enchanting. For the first time in a while, she feels like a protagonist in her own life. She whoops. A second later, the cry is echoed by Leo and Piper.

The band leaves, replaced by a more low-key musician. They stumble out of the crowd, grinning, arms linked. “Shall we go see how our stall’s getting on?” Piper asks.

The pumpkin carving is on the other side of the festival. There’s lots of hay bales set out as seating, and in the middle of it all, there’s a large marquee strung up by guy lines. A sign outside reads PUMPKIN CARVING AND MOCKTAILS in scrawling crimson lettering. “Let’s go!” Leo says, dragging Annabeth and Piper forward.

As they walk inside, Annabeth is overwhelmed by the staggering scents of cinnamon and cardamom. Piper perks up at first sight of the mocktail bar on one side of the tent, but Annabeth insists they go check out the pumpkin carving first. “Don’t you wanna see all our hard work?”

There’s a lot of people in the carving workshop, etching faces into the many pumpkins laid out as they chatter away. “Let’s have a contest!” Piper says, eyes sparking with the revelation.

Leo pouts. “I’m rubbish at art. I’m not doing it.”

“Fine by me,” Annabeth prods. “If you don’t take part, we beat you automatically.”

Leo raises a brow. “I don’t think that’s how it works,” he protests, but he follows them over and grabs a pumpkin for himself.

Leo and Piper finish quickly, both opting for simple designs. Piper’s isn’t bad by any means, but Leo’s one is messy to say the least. At Annabeth and Piper’s judgemental looks, he just shrugs. “What? I warned you.”

“Hurry up, Annabeth,” Piper tells her. “I wanna get a mocktail.”

Annabeth nods, keeping both her eyes and her blunt craft knife on the pumpkin. The half-finished face of a Cheshire Cat grins back at her. It’s not terribly detailed, but Annabeth thinks she’s done pretty well with the time she’s had. “You guys can go stand in line,” she suggests. “I’ll finish this quickly.”

“You sure?” Leo asks. She nods. They walk off, headed for the mocktail queue.

Annabeth works on her pumpkin for another couple minutes, occasionally glancing up to check where Leo and Piper are in the dwindling queue. At last, she finishes her pumpkin. Holding it at arm's length, she examines it with a smile.

Behind her, she hears a familiar voice. “Hey, Alice.”

She whips around, startled. Percy is standing right there, looking exactly as she remembers—he’s all messy, dark hair and deep green eyes that look almost grey in the marquee’s dim light. He’s even wearing that faded red shirt he’d worn the first day they met. Annabeth feels shell-shocked. All she manages to say is, “You’re not wearing a costume.”

He laughs nervously, rubs the back of his neck. “Didn’t know what to come as.”

Annabeth crosses her arms. Now that she’s regaining her senses, fervent irritation spikes in her at Percy’s sheer audacity. “You lied.”

“What?”

“You lied. You said you wouldn’t ever just ignore me again without an explanation.”

He grimaces. “I’m sorry, Annabeth. Things have been kind of draining, recently. I’m barely getting my homework done.”

Annabeth glares at him for a moment longer, then softens. She pulls him into a hug, burying her nose into his shoulder. “I wish I could stay mad at you,” she mumbles.

Percy pulls back, smiles at her. “I’ve missed you. Can we be friends again?”

Annabeth hesitates, then relents with a nod. “I’ve missed you, too.” Eager to return to normalcy, she gestures to her Cheshire Cat pumpkin. “Like it? I’m pretty proud.”

With a wry smile, Percy nods. “It’s good. Very on-brand.”

“Thanks.” She smiles at him for a moment, elated. “Wanna share a mocktail?”

He hesitates. “I’d like to, but I can’t pay half.”

She rolls her eyes, threading her arm through his. “They’re only, like, a dollar fifty. I think I can let it slide this once.”

Percy grins. “Then I’d love to.”

They find Piper and Leo in the queue and Annabeth introduces Percy to them. It doesn’t take long before it feels like Percy’s one of the group, as permanent a fixture as any of them. Him and Leo have the same dry, sarcastic humour and Piper matches his neatly chaotic energy perfectly.

After buying three virgin mojitos, they head for the bonfire in the neighbouring field. Percy and Annabeth hand theirs back and forth between each sip. “Imagine if they accidentally put alcohol in this,” Percy muses.

Annabeth laughs. “How on earth would they do that by accident?”

Leo shrugs. “It could happen. Last Christmas, my foster home handed out non-alcoholic champagne—except they mixed it up with the alcoholic stuff. Didn’t take long for us to work it out. I had four glasses before our carers realised.”

Piper gapes at him. “Four glasses?”

“Bet you’re a lightweight,” Percy jokes.

Leo straightens up. “I am not, thank you very much.”

The bonfire is already raging. Dozens of people stand around it, enjoying the brief respite it gives them from the bitter October chill. Someone’s leading campfire songs. Piper grins. “Let’s go join in!”

Annabeth halts, jolting Percy whose arm is still woven through hers. “Oh, absolutely not.”

Percy pokes her. “Don’t be boring. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“It’ll be cheesy.”

Leo shakes his head. “That’s the idea.” Reluctantly, Annabeth allows herself to be dragged forward.

The flames are bliss, bringing sensation back into Annabeth’s cold, white fingers. She rubs at them, wincing at the crunching-glass feeling in her hands. “God,” she mutters. Percy notices.

Carefully, he takes Annabeth’s hand and massages the warmth back into them. “Better?”

She stares at his feet, willing the blush rising in her cheeks to go away. “How are you literally a human radiator?”

He smirks. “I’m warm-blooded, whereas you’re essentially a reptile.”

She smacks him. “Shut your mouth, Jackson.”

They go and join Piper and Leo with the rest of the crowd singing campfire songs. Percy chimes in to ‘Hey Jude’ without hesitation. Annabeth gives in, singing along with an eye roll. He grabs her hand, spinning her in a pirouette. “I really like your dress!” he shouts over the roar of the crowd.

“It’s borrowed,” she tells him.

He shrugs. “Looks nice on you.”

They dance for a while longer, afflicted by the lilting energy of everyone singing around them. At one point, Piper runs over and crashes into Annabeth and Percy, knocking them to the floor. “Love you, you bloody idiot!” she shouts into Annabeth’s ear.

Before Annabeth can return the sentiment, Leo flops on top of them with a screech, joining the pile-on. “Ribs,” Annabeth croaks. Percy can’t stop laughing.

The festival draws to a close at eleven. They walk back to the car, first going with Percy to dig his bike out of the bushes he left it in. He hugs Annabeth. “Bye,” he murmurs.

“Hey, no. Come back in the car with us!” Leo says. “We’re gonna have a karaoke battle in the car.”

Annabeth holds onto Percy’s wrist, pulling him gently back. “Come with us,” she tells him. “Please?”

Percy seems to read something in her expression. He pauses for a moment, then nods. “Okay. If there’s room in the car.”

When Helen sees them, she nearly sobs with relief. “Thank God you’re all in one piece. I was held up as Matthew was being sick. It wasn’t pretty.” She lights up when she sees Percy. “Oh, Percy, dear! I hadn’t seen you in a while. How are you?”

Percy smiles at her. He likes Helen; Annabeth can tell. “I’m alright, ma’am.”

After loading Percy’s bike into the trunk, they set off. Piper leans forward and clicks through radio stations before finally settling on one that plays classic pop. Percy throws his head back and sings along with Leo and Piper at the top of his lungs to ‘Changes,’ a song Annabeth’s dad loves. Annabeth watches him, breath faltering as the lyrics slip away from her.

Leo catches her looking and raises his brows. Already knowing what he’s going to say, Annabeth plants an elbow hard in his gut to cut him off. “Who’re we dropping off first?” she asks Helen.

Helen glances in the rear-view mirror, spinning the wheel as she reverses down a lane. “Leo’s closest, then Piper and then Percy.”

Forty minutes pass before they’re on the way to Percy’s. For some reason, Percy looks anxious. He keeps tearing threads off the hem of his already-frayed shirt. “You okay?” Annabeth asks him.

He throws her a distracted look. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

They drive for a while into the outskirts of town. Helen asks Percy a variety of questions about how school’s going for him. Percy’s answers are accurate but evasive.

Annabeth watches the countryside flicker past out the window, a mess of hazy greys and blacks in the pitch-dark night. Percy must have to cycle really far to get home every day; they’re miles out. At last, Helen pulls up into a small side-road. “Here we are,” she says, turning around. “Need help getting your bike out?”

“Nah, it's alright.”

Annabeth looks around, searching for Percy’s house. She can’t see anything except for a sign that reads _Trailer Park Ahead_. It hits her all at once: why they’ve never hung out at Percy’s, why he hasn’t wanted her to see his home. In that moment, the pearlescent veneer coating her sheltered life is washed away in the wake of realisation.

Percy’s watching her carefully. His eyes are shuttered. “Bye,” he says softly.

Annabeth can’t get any words except a soft, muted “Goodbye.” She reaches out and throws her arms around Percy. He isn’t stiff, exactly, just hesitant. “Don’t be a stranger,” she says quietly. “Promise you won’t be.”

Percy offers her a half-smile. “I won’t be,” he echoes, and then he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all the love on the first chapter! hearing your thoughts on my work never ceases to be amazing. really hope you guys enjoyed this update :)


	3. dream and his sister, death

Percy honestly isn't a secretive person. Not by nature. Still, there's one secret he's kept his entire life. He's kept it hard and fast, with more fervour than the rest of his infinite vices—a losing hand held close to his chest.

By the age of ten, Percy understands the universe on a darker and more sordid level than a kid has any business being able to. It takes a while for him to realise that, oh, the rest of his classmates can take a high-five without freezing to the spot. It makes sense, to be honest. Throughout all his sleepless nights, he wonders what's wrong with him, what he's done to deserve it. A new thing comes to mind each night. He was late to dinner. He left his dirty plate by the sink. He didn't _lock the fucking door behind him, goddamn it._ No, he doesn't want to get robbed, sir. Nod his head. Shake his head, eyes on the floor. _Look at me!_ Sorry, sir.

It's all very, very exhausting. Percy meant it when he told Annabeth he barely has time to do his homework.

Annabeth is a breath of fresh air. She's colourful, exciting, with nice parents and a nice dog and nice freckles. He'd never admit it to anyone, but she became the most important person in his life after barely a week of knowing her. Despite Percy's best efforts, she's worked her way into his life and refused to leave.

After the harvest festival, things start to look up. His stepdad starts drinking more, which is good. It means he's passed out at the kitchen table most of the time. Percy hangs out with Annabeth, Piper and Leo almost every day after school. Leo even loans him a skateboard. They start practising together regularly in the town park, going over the ramps until they're steady enough that they stop knocking freshly healed scabs off their knees.

Leo seems to understand his thought processes better than Annabeth and Piper do. Being late home = bad. Prolonged eye contact = bad. All Percy knows about Leo's past is that he ran away from foster homes a few times, but even that reveals enough to Percy.

The four of them go to the library every weekend. Percy isn't much of a reader himself, but he likes flipping through the comics while Annabeth and Piper talk endlessly about whatever book they've read recently. Percy soon grasps that Annabeth reads for the lessons while Piper reads for the stories. He's not sure which is the most productive way to go about it.

He and Annabeth are joined almost at the hip. On weekends, they walk King and sprawl in fields together, gazing up at the clouds. When it rains, they cycle through puddles so fast that water splashes up around them. As the school year wears on, Percy finds himself wishing more and more that he could switch to the others' elementary. Even though it's his last year at his current school anyway, he desires the close friendship and familiarity the others seem to share.

Still, what he's got is enough: Skateboarding, going to the library. The occasional round of Mario Kart at Annabeth's house. Helen's kind glances and Frederick's help whenever his cheap bike fails—it's all enough.

The Christmas holidays pass like a ghost. Gabe marks up his face on Christmas Eve so he avoids his friends for ages.

School is dull enough that he blocks most of it out and before long, it's summer again. With summer comes the gradual lightening of Annabeth's hair and the formation of more freckles on her face. With summer comes bike rides, ice-creams, and absolutely intoxicating amounts of Annabeth. With summer comes the impending end of their time at elementary, which Percy is glad for. He has a few friends there, sure, but none of them mean much to him.

In September, he'll go to Mileview. Mileview, the school Annabeth, Leo and Piper are all going to. With both a middle school and a high school built in, it's the biggest school in their town. Percy is kept going by the dream of a fresh start there.

On the last day of school, Percy cycles hard and fast for the river. The July heat beats down on him, sticky and humid. Percy's wearing a long-sleeved shirt due to some lancing bruises up his left arm from a beer bottle but their dull, residual ache is the last thing on his mind. It's not like the glass cut him, anyway.

The others are all standing by the river in the shade of a tree, backpacks scattered on the grass. Annabeth watches him cycle up, a beaming smile on her face. "Hi, Percy!" she calls.

Percy grins, jumping off and letting his bike clatter to the ground. "Hey."

Leo claps him on the back. "What's up, my man?" Percy completes a practised handshake with Piper. Once his attention returns to Annabeth, she hugs him. She's wearing a white summer dress; the pink straps of a bikini peek out of its neckline. Her curly hair looks so soft and sun-bleached that it reminds Percy of dandelion seeds. "We're gonna go in the river. You coming in?" she asks.

"Can't swim," he admits. "I'll paddle, though."

Piper gapes. Her brown hair is plaited into French braids. Percy wonders if Annabeth did them. "No way!" she says, incredulous. "You really can't swim?"

"Never had lessons."

Annabeth is looking at him intently. "I'll help you learn," she offers. "Over summer. It's not hard."

Percy rubs the back of his neck. "Maybe." Eager to change the subject, he turns to Leo. "Have you managed a pop shove-it yet?"

Leo groans. "No, Christ. We're going to the ramps tomorrow, yeah? I'm not resting 'til I get it."

They stay at the river late into the evening. Annabeth and Piper hold a brief contest between themselves regarding who can do the best somersault off the riverbank into the water. They try and make Leo do it, but he protests. After making fun of him, they drag him in with them.

Percy goes in up to his thighs in the shallows and splashes around with Piper while Annabeth and Leo take turns trying to do handstands in the water. He's glad he can't go in further, to be honest—the water scares him a bit.

Percy says this to Piper, who rolls her eyes. "Come off it. The water's not gonna hurt you." To emphasise her point, she kicks a wave of water into Percy's face.

He splutters. "Stop! You're getting my shirt wet."

"Just don't wear it, if you're worried."

Percy ignores the surge of fear that crashes through him at the idea of anyone seeing his bruised arm. Schooling his features into submission, he flashes Piper a crooked grin. "What, you wanna see me take it off?" he jokes.

Piper shrieks, running away. "Don't be gross!"

They go and sit on the grassy bank to dry off, watching as Leo and Annabeth keep trying to perfect their water-submerged handstands. Annabeth grabs Leo's ankles while he's upside-down and they laugh as Leo thrashes, gurgling muffled threats. He lunges for Annabeth once he surfaces, hellbent on revenge as he crashes through the water after her. She screams, swimming away with a smile on her face. "I'm sorry!" she shrieks. "Calm down, Jesus. It was funny."

When it's time to leave, Percy cycles Annabeth home on the back of his bike. The sky's so red it could be on fire, lit up like flames by the dying sun.

They pull up to Annabeth's gate. She hops off, grinning. "This summer's gonna be the best," she tells Percy.

"You're right," he agrees with a smile. He hasn't felt this happy in a long time. "Can I come to yours tomorrow morning?"

Annabeth nods, like it's obvious. "'Course. I need someone to walk King with me."

Percy cycles away, yelling, "Bye!" over his shoulder. Annabeth waves until he turns the corner, out of sight.

Percy makes it home at seven 'o' clock. After chaining his bike to the railing, he carefully pushes open the trailer door. Unlocked, thank God—he lost his key yesterday. Closing it as quietly as he can, he kicks off his shoes. Gabe is passed out on the sofa, baseball cap over his face. A few empty cans of beer lie on the floor around him. Percy gathers them up and puts them in the recycling, trying not to make too much noise.

There's no dinner on the table. Fair enough—Percy missed it anyway. He opens the cupboard, hoping for a can of soup or ravioli, but there's nothing. He sighs, pouring a glass of water instead. Gabe gets paid tomorrow so, with luck, Percy will be able to buy some groceries. Gabe's only been taking half as many shifts lately, though, being on a zero-hour contract. Most of the money will probably be spent on booze anyway.

He resolves to start asking around for a job tomorrow. Being young, he'll be cheap to employ. He reckons he can keep a job a secret from Gabe for long enough to generate some savings.

Climbing into bed, he pulls a comic he got from the library out from under his mattress and opens it. _The Sandman: Dream Country._ It's the third volume.

He reads for a while, content with losing himself to the strange art and stranger storylines. He wonders what it'd be like to be Dream, the main character. Or maybe his sister, Death. Though the ache of hunger is rock-heavy in his gut, nothing can bring his mood down. Summer's started, and tomorrow he's seeing Annabeth again.

* * *

As July trundles by, Annabeth's birthday begins to approach. Percy manages to snag a job at the local machine shop—only because the manager takes pity on him, sparing glances at his worn clothes. Though he only makes three dollars an hour sorting receipts, he saves enough money to buy Annabeth a present. Something small, but something all the same.

He's sitting on Annabeth's bed with Bobby's Nintendo DS, playing Mario Kart with fixation. Annabeth is just as focused, lying flat on the floor as she plays. "Why did you make me pick Rainbow Road?" she complains as she gets pelted off the track by a green shell for the third time running.

Percy grins, eyes glued to the screen. "'Cause I can always beat you on it."

"Shut your mouth." Annabeth's been lifted back on the track. This time, there's fury in her eyes. She stands up, pacing almost as quickly as her thumb's movements on the toggle.

At the last second she manages to get into second place, but Percy's already crossed the finish line. He pumps his fist. "Yes!" he whoops.

Annabeth groans, flopping backwards onto her bed. "I hate you."

Percy grins, turning to look at her. She's frustrated—her brows have gone all creased. "You don't."

She sighs. "You're probably right. By the way," she pokes him, "you're coming bowling with us on Friday. It's my birthday, so no excuses."

"Bowling?" he asks. "Cool."

"It is," she grins. "Have you been before?" When he shakes his head, she makes a face. "There's not a chance I'm letting you on my team, then. I'm in it to win it."

Percy smiles. "Is that so?"

She nods, all seriousness. "Of course."

* * *

On Thursday, Percy can't meet the others as he has to work at the machine shop. He's been excited all day as he finally picked out Annabeth's present: a charm necklace. So she can keep adding things onto it, if she wants. He's bought one charm to start her off—a silver letter A. Still, that's not the only charm he's giving her; last year, Helen drove them to the beach for a day out and he found a small grey shell with a tiny hole in the side. He's glad he kept it safe—it matches Annabeth's eyes.

It turns five in the afternoon and Percy clocks out of work. He steps outside to search for Lucy, the manager. Glancing around, he notices her brown feet peeking out from under a convertible. Percy doesn't know why she never wears shoes and at this point, he's afraid to ask. "I'm heading home, ma'am," he calls.

Lucy pulls herself out from under the car, still lying down on her creeper seat. "Have you locked the receipt cabinet?" she asks.

He nods. "Yes, ma'am."

"You're an angel," she smiles. "Get home safe, you hear?"

"'Course. Thanks, Lucy."

When he gets back to trailer, his stepdad's home from work. He's watching soccer and seems too preoccupied with screaming obscenities at the players to notice Percy's return. Percy fills a saucepan with water and places it on the heat, then reaches into the cupboard for a packet of dry ramen. As his ramen cooks, Percy dimly registers Gabe's team losing in the background. Percy stiffens. Every time they lose, his stepfather gets in a funk.

The game ends as Percy tips his ramen into a bowl. Gabe stands up and kicks the coffee table, muttering something about _godawful fucking defenders_. He lumbers over to the kitchen, opening the fridge. "Where've you been?" he asks, taking out a fresh beer.

"At Leo's house," Percy mumbles.

"Speak up."

Percy picks up a fork. "At Leo's, sir."

"Leo? What, that foster kid?" Gabe mutters, cracking open his beer. The foam flows over his fingers and he bites out a curse. "Shit. Get a cloth, would ya?"

Percy passes him a kitchen towel. Picking up a fork, he mashes around his ramen. It's undercooked. He tries to step around Gabe to go eat in his room, but he throws Percy a menacing look. "Eat at the table. You're not a fucking hobo."

Percy sits down. Gabe's rules change all the time; he's long given up trying to follow them. "Sorry, sir."

"Sir, sir, sir," Gabe mimics in a girlish voice, sitting down to drink his beer in the chair opposite. Percy doesn't point out the time Gabe broke his nose for forgetting to call him that. "Grow some balls."

Percy can do nothing but nod. He eats his ramen quietly as Gabe rifles through a newspaper, then gets up and washes the bowl at the sink when he's done. As Percy walks by, Gabe sticks out a foot, tripping him. Percy stumbles, barely grabbing onto the counter in time. Gabe lets out a bellowing laugh as Percy disappears to his room, heart pounding.

He hates this.

* * *

On Friday after school, Percy shoves the pouch with Annabeth's necklace into his pocket and takes off for Leo's house on his bike. Then they'll head for Annabeth's house to hang out for a while before going bowling.

 _Bowling_. Percy still can't wrap his head around it.

Percy cycles up the asphalt lane to Leo's foster home, slowing down as he approaches. The foster home is in a grey community building. The walls of it are just as cracked as its windows. Needless to say, Percy thinks he fits in better here than the picket-fence fantasy of Annabeth's estate.

"Leo?" he calls. He'd been told to wait outside rather than ringing the doorbell.

Just then, the door opens. Leo wheels his bike out of it, knuckles clenched so hard on the handlebars that they're almost white. "Fuck off, Baron," he yells. That's the first time Percy's heard that word out of anyone's mouth other than Gabe.

An older foster kid leans on the doorway, watching Leo leave with a smirk. He must be Baron. "Aw, did I hurt your feelings?"

Leo's face is red. He whirls around. "Just leave my stuff alone, okay? Jeanne told me she'd take away your skateboard if she caught you one more time."

Baron laughs. "Is that so? Well, I'm sure you won't tell." As he turns to go back inside, he adds, "Better watch your back."

Jaw clenched, Leo hops on his bike and starts cycling. Percy scrambles to keep up. "That guy's a jerk," Percy notes.

Staring at the road ahead of him, Leo nods. "All the older guys are. They think they own the place just 'cause they've been there longer."

Percy isn't sure how to comfort him. "Well, it won't be long before you own the place too."

Leo smiles, sharp as a knife. "Yeah. Won't be long," he repeats. Percy's a little unsettled by the intensity of his gaze.

When they skid to a halt outside Annabeth's house, Helen's in the garden working on the hedgerows. "Oh, lovely! You're here. Go on inside, the girls are finishing up the cake. You'll eat first, then we'll drive to the bowling alley. I'll put your bikes in the shed."

Percy grins. "Thanks, Helen."

The two of them wander inside, kicking off their shoes. Laughter echoes from the kitchen. Percy walks through, lighting up at the sight of Annabeth standing at the kitchen island with Piper. "Hey," Percy says.

Annabeth whirls around. There's flour all down her front, even in her curly hair. "Thank God you're here 'cause we need some serious help. Do either of you know how to make fondant less sticky?"

"Nope," Leo says, walking around to lean on the island. "Can I try some of that?" He leans forward to dip a finger in the buttercream.

Piper shrieks, swatting him. "No, go away! You haven't even washed your hands yet."

Annabeth grabs Percy's sleeve, dragging him towards the sink. "Wash your hands—then you can help me mix this."

Half an hour later, the cake is smothered in buttercream and decorated with blue fondant hearts. Helen emerges into the kitchen, taking off her gardening gloves. "The cake looks brilliant! I love the hearts. Who came up with that?"

"Percy did," Annabeth says, grinning. "We dyed the fondant with food colouring."

"Smart."

Leo cranes over the cake. "Can we please eat it now?"

Helen shakes her head, taking some aluminium foil out the cupboard and covering the cake with it. "Later. We've got pizza first."

"Should we do gifts over dinner?" Piper suggests.

Checking Annabeth's necklace is still in his pocket, Percy nods. "Yeah."

They sit down at the kitchen table. Leo pulls out Piper's chair just as she goes to sit on it. When she lands on her butt, everyone except her explodes into laughter. "You'll pay for that," she grumbles.

The pizza is amazing. Percy hasn't eaten yet today so he polishes off his margarita in a few minutes flat. Helen raises a pencilled-in eyebrow at him, making him blush. "Sorry. It's just tastes really good."

She smiles. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Piper leans back in her chair and lets out a long, sustained belch. Annabeth screams and ducks away from her as Leo and Percy laugh. "Why am I the only civil person here?" she complains.

"That's your fault for inviting us," Leo points out. Annabeth sticks out her tongue at him.

"Let's do gifts!" Piper says. "Can I go first?"

"Sure," Annabeth says. "You know, you didn't have to—"

"Shut up, Annabeth," the rest of them chorus.

Piper runs over to the island and reaches into her bag. She withdraws an envelope and holds it out to Annabeth. Intrigued, Annabeth takes it. "What's this?" she asks.

"Just open it."

Carefully, Annabeth slides a nail under the close and teases it open. Reaching inside, she pulls out four tickets. _The Shallows: Official Premiere_ is printed on each of them in bold text. Annabeth's mouth falls open. "Isn't this your dad's new movie?"

Piper nods excitedly. "Yes! I had to guilt-trip him so hard to convince the organisers to let us come. It's rated R and we're gonna have the time of our lives."

Annabeth looks faint. "R," she repeats helplessly.

Leo bounces in his seat. "Does this mean we get to go on the red carpet?"

Percy blanches. "Red carpet?"

"I don't have anything to wear!" Annabeth cries.

Piper flaps a hand. "Don't worry about that. We're gonna go to a dress fitting."

"What about us?" Leo complains.

"You'll wear suits, obviously."

A slow grin crosses Annabeth's face. She lunges for Piper, throwing her arms around her. "This is insane," she squeals. "Thank you so much!"

"You're crushing my ribs," Piper croaks.

Annabeth lets go, still smiling. "Who's next?"

"I'll go," Leo offers. He pulls his backpack onto his lap and unzips it, pulling out a parcel wrapped in newspaper. He slides it over to Annabeth. "Jeanne helped me put it together."

She peels the many layers of tape off it, ripping into the newspaper. It's a journal. Photos of the four of them together have been stuck all over the front—there's one of them sitting in their local diner and another one of them all at the harvest festival. "I love it, Leo! I've been wanting a journal so bad." She hugs him.

Piper grabs the journal, studying the photos on the cover. She makes a face. "I look like a gremlin in that one."

"You always look like a gremlin," Percy comments.

Piper glares at him. "That's rich, coming from you."

Annabeth and Leo laugh as Piper grabs at Percy. "Gosh, it was a joke," he laughs.

"Percy, you next," Annabeth interrupts. She looks excited.

Suddenly, Percy's nervous. His hands shake slightly as he pulls the pouch out of his pocket. "It's not much," he mumbles.

Annabeth pulls the drawstring of the pouch, letting the contents of it slide into her palm. At the sight of the necklace, she lets out a sharp breath. Running her thumb over the tiny blue shell, she doesn't take her eyes off it. "Percy, this is beautiful. Thank you." She pulls him into a hug. He smiles into her shoulder, head clouded by the smell of her jasmine shampoo.

After, the four of them crowd into Helen's car to go bowling. It's dark out. The faded countryside blurs into itself as they drive into town, laughing and singing along to the radio. Elation sparks in Percy's veins as they walk into the bowling alley. To his confusion, he's handed a pair of shoes. "What're these for?" he asks.

Annabeth stifles a laugh. "They're bowling shoes, idiot." Percy struggles to think of a reason why he can't just wear his own.

They start bowling. At first, Percy isn't great at it. He tries to mimic the way Annabeth throws it with little success, cringing when his ball clatters into the gutter. Leo shakes his head at Percy. "It's all in the wrist."

 _Oh_. On Percy's next go, he manages to knock down a few pins. Annabeth beams at him. Piper groans, "I can't believe the newbie's almost catching me up."

Leo's the most consistently good out of all of them, but he can't seem to get a spare or strike for the life of him. Piper gets frustrated too easily so it's not long before she falls behind. Surprisingly, Annabeth and Percy end up neck and neck. On his second-to-last go, Percy rolls a strike. Pumping his fist, he crows, "Yes!"

Annabeth shoots him a sour look. Cracking her knuckles, she picks up a ball. It's her last go. "Watch and learn." Brows furrowed in concentration, she lines up her feet. With a deep breath, she draws back and throws.

Chewing on his lip, Percy can't look away as the ball rolls perfectly down the middle of the alley. But at the last second, it veers away, knocking into the left side of the pins. Every pin goes down except for the one in front. "Ha!" he jeers.

Annabeth glares daggers at him. "I can still get a spare," she insists, tone icy. She picks up another ball and walks to the line. She throws it. Still, her aim must've been off as the ball doesn't even graze the final pin. "Great," she mutters as Piper bursts out laughing.

She's still ahead in points, but Percy only needs a spare to beat her. He nudges her, grinning. "Looks like I might take the title of champion."

At that, Annabeth doesn't seem pleased. "Screw you."

Soon enough, it's Percy's go again. He picks up a ball, squaring his shoulders as he advances to the line. "Come on," he murmurs to himself. Winding his arm back, he exhales steadily and lets the ball fly. It knocks into the middle pin, crashing straight through. All of the pins fall except one. _He can do this._ Picking up another ball, he tunes out Leo and Piper's whispering as he aligns his feet.

Percy chances a look back at Annabeth. She's glowering, shoulders crossed. He realises he likes it more when she's happy. In that moment, he makes a choice. Knowing he needs to sell it, he throws the ball. When it bounces into the gutter, he throws up his hands. "No, I was so close," he groans.

"Yes!" Annabeth screeches. She dances around, euphoric. Percy watches her celebrate, rolling his eyes with a smile.

When Helen drops him off at the trailer park later that night, he can't stop replaying the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! this is the first chapter in percy's perspective and I hope you guys enjoyed it. I'd love to hear your thoughts in the reviews! 
> 
> the next chapter will be uploaded on wednesday as usual :)


	4. to be somewhere

After Annabeth's eleventh birthday, the bleak end of what has been a warm and vibrant summer slowly begins to dawn. Percy becomes more and more distant, even though she knows he doesn't mean to. He's always working at the mechanic shop. This bothers her—whenever Annabeth mentions it to Helen, she reacts with distaste and goes into a spiel about child labour laws. Annabeth doesn't know what to think. Even though Percy's only sorting receipts, there could be some truth to Helen's words.

Percy's birthday is a strange affair. Annabeth only sees him in the morning long enough to give him his present: the next two volumes in the Sandman graphic novel series, which he's been talking endlessly about trying to find. They're not in the public library, so Annabeth bought them for him.

He's overwhelmed when she gives them to him. Annabeth secretly hopes he likes the Sandman novels more than Piper's and Leo's gifts—they both pitched in and bought him a box of glossy skateboard stickers—but it's hard to tell. Nevertheless, he throws his arms around them all and tackles them to the mossy ground of Annabeth's garden.

Percy has to leave soon after. He mumbles something about needing to spend the day with his family. Annabeth thinks that's unfair, but Helen says not to try not to blame him when she moans about it to her later. "I doubt it's his choice," Helen admonishes her. "His parents probably just want to spend some time with him."

Annabeth flops backwards off the couch, legs up the wall. "I know," she grumbles. "Maybe we can do something for his birthday in the next couple days...?"

Helen smiles at her from across the room. "I wouldn't mind hosting something outside while the weather's warm. Ask Percy about it when you see him."

The thing is, Annabeth doesn't see Percy for a week after that. Piper's away on vacation and Leo hasn't seen him. The two of them meet whenever they're bored, a splinter of their usual group. Of course, Annabeth doesn't mind. Leo's the only way she can learn skate tricks as Percy doesn't trust her on his board.

"Slide your foot down. No, come on, slide it—"

With a shriek, Annabeth crashes off the board and lands in a heap at the bottom of the ramp. "Ow," she grumbles. "I nearly had it, too."

"In your dreams," Leo says. "Come on, try again. If you don't learn this by the end of the day, there'll be consequences."

Annabeth doesn't feel remotely threatened by him, but she'll admit she does want to learn the trick. "Whatever. Show me it again?"

They spend the whole day at the skate-park, going up and down the ramps more times than Annabeth can count. As impatient as Leo is, he's a good teacher. After two bruised knees and a scraped elbow, Annabeth successfully lands the trick. She pumps her fist. "Yes! Suck on that."

Leo rolls his eyes. "That's rookie stuff. I'll show you a gazelle flip next."

In the soft, bleeding light of the sunset, they head home from the skatepark. Leo walks for a while beside her on the way to the junction where they usually part, skateboard under his arm. "I'm worried about Percy," Annabeth admits to him.

"Why's that?"

"Neither of us have seen him in a week. We barely even did anything for his birthday."

"I wouldn't worry," Leo advises. "You know what he's like—almost a ghost, sometimes. Disappears for a few days, then shows up again like nothing happened. He's just a distant person."

"I wish he wasn't," she says. "Makes it hard to tell what he's thinking."

Leo snorts. "Skateboarding, food and sleep probably occupy ninety percent of his brain capacity. No one’s any more complicated than that."

Annabeth shakes her head, though she suspects Leo's probably right. "We should go see him at work, tomorrow. Just to make sure he's alright."

"As long as you buy us milkshakes after."

"Deal." As the pair of them come up to the junction where their paths diverge, Annabeth offers out a hand to seal the contract.

Leo shakes it as he lets his board fall to the concrete, bracing one foot on it. "Ten-thirty tomorrow, then." He pushes off, heading down the other path. With a sigh, Annabeth puts in her earphones and resigns herself to the walk home.

* * *

Annabeth takes King out to meet Leo the next day. Leo loves him; King's outgoing, sarcastic personality mirrors his own to a T.

As he approaches Annabeth, King starts going crazy. With a grin, Leo crouches down and allows King to lavish dog-kisses on his face. "Who's a good dog? Who's a good dog?" he croons. King wags his tail frantically in response.

Annabeth stifles a laugh. "Come on, let's head into town."

They decide to leave milkshakes until after visiting Percy at the machine shop. As they cross the road that leads up to it, Annabeth hears a loud crash.

"Jeez. What was that?" Leo asks, quickening his pace.

Annabeth doesn't know. She cranes her neck to see into the courtyard as Leo props his bike up by the road. A woman stands outside, talking animatedly to someone lying beneath a car on a creeper seat. With a shock, Annabeth recognises Percy's worn sneakers. "Percy!" she calls.

The woman turns around and smiles when she sees Annabeth. "Hey, there. I'm Lucy. Are you two Percy's friends?"

Leo nods. "What's he doing?"

"I'm just showing him the ropes—he asked me if he could start learning. Couldn't turn away an eager student, could I now?"

Percy wheels out from under the car and stands up, grinning. There's a smear of dark oil on his cheek. "I'm only learning the basics, but still. Maybe in a year or so I'll know enough to start working on clients' cars."

His enthusiasm is infectious. "That's so cool," Annabeth breathes. With a start, she notices Percy's split lip. "God, what happened?"

His face falls. "Oh—I fell. Messed up a skating trick."

"Bad. Ass," Leo says with awe. "Put it here." They fist-bump, and Percy's expression lightens up again.

"Alright, clear out," Lucy orders, waving away Annabeth and Leo. "He'll only be another half-hour. Why don't you kids wait somewhere?"

"The diner?" Percy suggests.

Leo nudges her. "You did say you'd buy me a milkshake."

"Fine," she mutters. "See you, Percy."

He throws her a half-smile. "See you."

True to Annabeth's word, she buys milkshakes for Leo and her when they get to _The Winehouse_ , the family-owned diner in town. They sit down in their usual booth by the window. Annabeth thanks the waitress when she serves them their drinks.

Leo's milkshake is banana, which makes Annabeth wrinkle her nose in disgust. "I can't believe you went for banana again."

"Hey, don't slander banana! Banana milkshakes are the beverage of the gods."

Annabeth fixes him with a glare, slurping her Belgian chocolate milkshake. "I don't want to get into this with you, but you're wrong."

"Sure, Annie."

Just then, Percy pushes through the diner's glass door. Glancing around, he seems to catch sight of Annabeth and Leo. He walks over to them, looking self-conscious as he tugs on the sleeve of his oil-stained shirt.

"Hey!" Annabeth beams at him, shifting further into their booth to make room for him. "How was it?"

"Good, actually," he replies. "Engines are so interesting. I don't really understand anything yet, but Lucy says it'll become second nature with time."

"I can't believe you're already earning," Leo grouches. "Jeanne says I can't get a job until I'm sixteen. That's too long—I need cash to kick off my business."

Annabeth snorts. "What business?"

"Haven't figured it out yet," he admitted. "I'm sure I'll have a eureka moment soon, though."

Percy grins. "When you're a billionaire, you better let me live in your mansion."

"You can sleep in the garage."

"Hey!" he protests.

"What's the big deal? Just live in Annabeth's mansion. She could probably buy one with her trust fund."

Annabeth glowers at him, folding her arms. "Shut up. That's for my tuition."

Leo rolls his eyes. "Who needs an education when you can just buy a coastal home in Italy and call it a day?"

"That'd be boring. I wanna live in a city."

"Same," says Percy. Wistfully, he adds, "An apartment would be nice."

By that one statement, Annabeth is jerked back to reality. A memory of where Percy lives is still seared onto her vision. She can't imagine living where he does. Always wanting, wanting, wanting. A few weeks ago, Helen spoke to her about it. "We're lucky to live how we do. Remember that, and be respectful." The underlying message beneath her words rang in a minor key, clear as day. In that moment, Annabeth remembered a word she'd learned from reading books—poverty. Applying that word to Percy felt somehow painful, wrong.

Annabeth nudges Percy, deciding to change the subject. "Do you want a milkshake? I got Leo one."

Percy hesitates. "Uh…are you sure? I can pay you back—"

"You could buy me one next time?" Annabeth has no intention of letting him, but he doesn't have to know that.

Percy nods slowly, then smiles. "Okay, yeah. Thanks."

After their milkshakes, the three of them walk King back to Annabeth's. On the way, they lie down on the wayside in the shade of a weeping willow hanging over the stream. King lies with his head in Percy's lap. Absently, he cards his fingers through King's soft, golden fur.

"Random question, but—what superpower would you guys want to have?" Leo asks. He's flat on his back, a mess of sprawling limbs.

Annabeth hums, staring up into the swaying trails of leaves hanging down above her. "Reading minds," she decides. "I'm not a coward; I wanna know what people think of me. Plus, I'd be a great spy."

Percy looks incredulous. "You're crazy. What if they're thinking bad stuff? I'd rather not know."

"What power would you have, then?" Annabeth asks, miffed.

Percy's silent for a moment, thinking. "I dunno."

"Well, I'd have invisibility," Leo proclaims. "Or the power to turn incorporeal. I'd be the coolest assassin ever."

"Of course you'd want a power that'd help you kill people," Percy grins. He's stopped stroking King. A moment passes before King starts whining, licking Percy's arm until he pays attention to him again.

"Well? What superpower would you have?" Leo asks. "You've gotta think of one."

Percy gazes across the field. The waning sunlight falls across his eyes, making them even more startlingly green. "Flight, I think." His voice is an echo.

Leo groans. "Flying's so basic."

Percy frowns. "Well, you asked. Wouldn't you want to fly? Leave Virginia, find somewhere better than here."

"You sound like Peter Pan," Annabeth teases.

"Peter Pan?"

"You know—convinced Wendy to fly away to Neverland, and all that."

Percy shrugs. "Doesn't have to be Neverland. Just has to be somewhere." He flops down, burying his cheek in King's fur. Annabeth watches him. Something in her chest twinges, a half-fledged discomfort. She doesn't know what to say.

Later that night, she lies beneath the covers, listening to the sound of an owl calling outside. Mind vacant, she doesn't sleep for hours and hours and hours.

* * *

Annabeth's dad is religious. Helen, too, though not to the same degree. Still, the river of faith runs strong and fast in Annabeth's family. Helen's always been adamant that neither she nor Frederick will ever force church on Annabeth—she's always been free to come to her own conclusions about God. Nevertheless, church is comforting for her. The routine of dressing nice and sitting snugly between Helen and her dad while letting her gaze wander out the church's stained-glass windows is easy. Familiar.

Whenever she mentions church, Percy shoots her a strange look. "It's weird you believe in that stuff," he'll say sometimes. Annabeth wouldn't call it weird, but maybe things are just different in Percy's household.

It's Sunday, the day before school starts again. Annabeth is sitting in a pew, kicking her feet back onto the hollow wood. The reverend's voice washes over her, nothing but background noise to her distracted mind. She'll be starting middle school tomorrow—with Percy, for the first time. She can't wait for all of them to get to hang out every day.

Suddenly, everyone is standing up around Annabeth. Her dad nudges her. "Hymns, Annabeth."

"Oh!" She stands, picking up the hymn book in front of her.

"We'll begin with _Blest Are They_ ," the reverend announces with a smile. For Annabeth, it's nice to become lost in the singing.

* * *

The first week of school at Mileview is better than Annabeth could ever have dreamed. She's in Percy's class, and although they don't get to sit next to each other they can still lock eyes from across the room. Percy isn't averse to mouthing at her whenever he's got a snide comment to make. Somehow, he never gets caught.

Every lunchtime, they sit outside on the grass to eat. Percy's always forgetting his lunch so Annabeth gets Helen to make an extra sandwich for him. Whenever Percy tries to say she doesn't have to, Annabeth waves him off. "Helen doesn't mind."

On Thursday, Piper decides they should start a club together. "Mr Lee's started a photography club," she says, dropping onto her arse beside them on the grass. "We should go!"

Leo groans. "Photography? Nah, don't think so."

"I want to, but I don't know if I can. Sorry," Percy apologises. "I've got work."

Piper latches onto Annabeth's arm. "You're doing it with me," she tells her. "No excuse."

Annabeth shakes her arm free, piercing Piper with a look. "Okay, fine! I don't know if I'll be any good at it, though."

That afternoon, Piper and Annabeth head up to the art block. Piper pushes open the door to the photography workroom. There's a few other students in there—mostly older kids working on real projects. As Annabeth and Piper sit down, Mr Lee hurries through the door with a Starbucks. Annabeth stifles a giggle as he unloads his bags onto the desk. "Sorry, I'm not usually late," he announces. "I woke up at four AM so a Starbucks was in order." His accent is rounded and careful, British to the core. He sweeps a glance around the room, gaze landing on Annabeth and Piper with a smile. "Ah, new people. Right, what are your names?"

"I'm Piper. This is Annabeth," Piper tells him.

"Lovely. Well, usually I just let everyone do whatever project they want, but I'm guessing you'll need a starting point, right?"

Annabeth nods, hesitant. "Yeah."

"So, what areas of photography are you particularly interested in? Still life? Portraiture? Analog?"

"What's analog?" Piper butts in.

"Shooting with film. Here, let me show you." Mr Lee crosses the room and rummages in one of the cupboards, finally pulling out a box. He puts it on the table in front of them and opens it, taking out a spiralling strip of monochromatic film.

Annabeth takes it when he offers it to her. She studies it carefully, wide-eyed. On the film, she can just barely make out the half-formed shapes of a dead tree. It's been lightning-struck; its trunk is torn in half, ripped brutally down the middle. "Woah," she breathes.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Mr Lee says, grinning. "I'll lend out some of the school's cameras and film if you wanna do a project with this. Once you've taken some photos, I'll even show you how to develop the film in the school's darkroom."

Piper's buzzing with excitement. "Sick!"

Mr Lee smiles. "You'll need to think of a subject to explore throughout your projects, though. Buildings, landscapes—there's so much to choose from. I'll let you have a think."

When he disappears off to help another student, Piper whirls around with a grin. "Okay! Any ideas?"

After photography club, Annabeth goes into town to see if Percy's finished his work. The analog camera that Mr Lee gave her is heavy in her bag, as well as rolls of film and everything else she'll need. She's hoping to get some good photos this week, starting with a test subject: Percy—if he's willing.

Percy is walking out of the mechanic's shop as she approaches. Dark half-moons are stamped beneath his eyes and there's a furtive tightness in the set of his shoulders. Still, he smiles when he sees her. "Annabeth! How was photography?"

"Amazing," she gushes. "I'm already starting a project! Can you help me with it? I'm trying out portraiture and I need someone to take photos of."

Percy winces. "I dunno. Can't Piper do it?"

Annabeth shakes her head, folding her arms. "No, I want you to do it. Please, for me?" she tacks on, making a sad face.

At that, Percy laughs. "Fine."

They walk around town for a while, trying to find a good place to take photos. "The setting needs to make for an interesting shot," Annabeth says. "Mr Lee says I could try using a dynamic background."

"What does dynamic mean?" Percy asks.

"Moving."

Annabeth settles for a spot by a fountain in the middle of a square. Sunlight reflects off the water in beams, creating something of a light show. "Stand there," Annabeth says, gesturing. With an amused smile, Percy does as she asks. "Okay, now you need to look serious," she tells him.

"Why?"

Arching a brow, Annabeth pierces him with a glare. "Who's the photographer here?" she demands.

"I don't know, but it definitely isn't you," Percy mutters. Ignoring his verbal jab, Annabeth raises her camera and exhales, peering through the viewfinder. With a moody look in his eyes and a jagged, harsh shadow falling over his face, somehow the whole setup works.

With a click, Annabeth takes the first photo.

They spend the whole day out in town, taking photo after photo against various backdrops. The best ones, Annabeth thinks, are the ones she takes of him in front of a wall of scrawling graffiti. With his scruffy clothes and unkempt hair, Percy looks like he belongs. Annabeth even starts experimenting with different angles and despite his reluctance, Percy's a good subject.

It's evening when they finish. The sun has dipped out of sight, leaving the sky in an indigo haze. "Do you want to come back to mine?" Annabeth asks.

Percy grimaces, shaking his head. "No. I need to get home."

"How come?"

Gaze downcast, Percy fidgets with the hem of his sleeve. "My stepdad wants me back to help with dinner." The words sound strange when he says them, an afterthought.

"Okay." She pulls Percy into a tight hug. "Thanks for helping me out. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Bye, Annabeth." He swings up onto his bike and casts a throwaway smile over his shoulder. Within a heartbeat, he's gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! let me know your thoughts in the comments :) as usual, the next chapter will be up on sunday.


	5. monochromatic

The first weekend back dissolves faster than Annabeth can comprehend it. Before she even realises it, it's Monday again. She hitches a lift to school with Piper's dad who's only just returned from filming his most recent movie: _The Shallows_. Annabeth is excited yet terrified for its premiere next year, which she's attending with Piper, Percy and Leo.

As Tristan makes a turn, he glances up into the rearview mirror and locks eyes with Annabeth. "So, how are you finding school?"

Annabeth fidgets with a loose button on her cardigan. "It's good," she replies. "Did Piper tell you we joined the photography club?"

"She did. She also showed me the photos she took," he laughs. He glances back at his daughter. "Didn't you, Pipes? They were very abstract. How did yours turn out?"

Annabeth smiles. "I'm not sure yet. Mr Lee's gonna help me develop the film tomorrow."

"Oh? Film, you say?" Switching on his indicator, he continues, "Back in the day, I modelled for a young photographer called Diane. She was very good. Her whole schtick was that she only ever shot with film. I'll show you some of her work, if you like."

"Yeah, I'd love that!"

"'Course, photography wasn't all Diane was good at," Tristan adds, a gleam in his eye. "She also—"

"Dad, shut up!" Piper screeches. "Literally no one wants to hear it."

Tristan smiles, pulling up to the curb beside Mileview's entrance. "Sorry, darling. Have a good day, girls."

As Annabeth sits down for her first lesson, her eyes wander over to Percy's seat. It's vacant—he probably hasn't arrived yet. However, his seat remains empty even after the lesson has started. Percy isn't usually late. A feeling of dread settles over Annabeth, but she tries not to dwell on it.

About half-way through the lesson, Percy walks through the classroom door. He's breathing fast. "Sorry I'm late," he manages. "Got held up."

The teacher stiffens, looking irritated. "Sit down. We'll talk after class."

A few people laugh, but by the time Percy takes a seat everyone's attention has moved on. Annabeth keeps looking at him, though. He pulls his hood up, sitting back in his chair gingerly. Concern ripples through Annabeth, and she resolves to get the story out of him later.

However, that doesn't turn out to be easy. When she tries to catch up with him at recess, he disappears. She searches everywhere—the playground, the corridors. She even asks his tutor. Giving up, she heads over to where Leo and Piper are sitting in the playground. "Hey, do you know where Percy is?"

Piper shrugs. "I saw him earlier, but he seemed kinda off. I thought you two were in the same class?"

"Yeah, but he left before I could talk to him." She sits down beside them, shaking off the nagging worry. "It's fine. I'm sure he'll meet us later."

Annabeth sees Percy again in lessons, but he seems blank and barely there. When the bell rings, he's the first out of class. Annabeth packs up her bag as fast as she can and runs after him. She snags his sleeve at the end of the corridor, forcing him to turn around. "What?" he snaps. As soon as he recognises her, though, his anger dissipates. "Oh. Annabeth."

"What's wrong with you today?" she asks, letting go of his sleeve once she's certain he isn't going to bolt. "You didn't meet any of us for lunch and you haven't said a word in class."

Percy withdraws, pulling the hems of his sleeves down over his knuckles. He glances left and right, like he's been cornered. "Nothing's wrong."

Annabeth frowns. "Percy—"

"Seriously," he argues. "I'm just tired. I'm heading to the machine shop now, so I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" With that, he turns and leaves her standing there.

Annabeth can't stop wondering what she's done wrong.

For the rest of September, Percy's behaviour is as changeable as the seasons. Most of the time he's as friendly as ever, but there'll be weeks where he barely says a word to Annabeth. She tries not to take it personally, but that's difficult without having an explanation. She wishes he'd give her a reason for his constant absences, an explanation for his flakiness when it comes to making plans. It's hard not to resent him for all these things, but Helen reminds her that he's still the same person as ever. "He could be stressed or dealing with family problems," Helen suggests, kneading dough into submission at the kitchen table. "Ask him, maybe. Everyone needs support when their life gets hard."

Annabeth leans on her forearms, staring sideways at the wall. "I don't know how to ask him! He doesn't even seem to want me around."

"Does he know?" Helen asks.

"Know what?"

"That _you_ want him around."

"Of course," Annabeth says, indignant. "He's my best friend!"

Helen laughs. "I know he is, sweetheart. But you could still try telling him that he's wanted, that he's needed. We all forget that sometimes." Annabeth heaves a sigh. Percy knows she cares about him, right? Not to mention Piper and Leo do, too. Still, maybe he could stand to be reminded.

On Thursday evening, Annabeth waits outside the machine shop. Percy's working a lot, lately. He's always telling her that he wants to get better at it, to be able to have a real job there when he's old enough. Annabeth kind of admires him for it but it still worries her.

At some point, Lucy notices her waiting outside. "Alright, love?" she asks warmly. Her dark, frizzy hair has been wrestled into a top-knot. "You waiting for Percy?"

Annabeth nods. "When does he finish?"

"In a few minutes. He's a hard worker, you know," she added, a fond look on her face. "Always stays late. Usually I'd be hesitant about hiring a kid, but I couldn't have turned him away. I know firsthand how much a little extra money can do."

Unanswered questions burn at the outskirts of Annabeth's head. "Why…" she starts, then trails off. She's not sure how to continue. She fiddles with her charm necklace, eyes on the front door where Percy will emerge.

"Well, that's a pretty necklace," Lucy tells her.

"Percy gave it to me," Annabeth says, a hesitant smile on her face.

Lucy grins. "'Course he did." She looks up, gesturing. "Oh, there's Percy. Nice talking to you, Annabeth." She gives Annabeth a wave and walks away.

Percy approaches her. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows and his hands are stained with black, sticky grease. "Hey. What are you doing here?" he asks.

Annabeth shrugs. "I was bored. Thought I'd come see you." She pauses, folding her arms. "That is allowed, right?"

Percy's brow furrows. "What? Obviously it is."

"Oh, well then. That's nice of you," Annabeth spits back, tone sarcastic and grating.

He looks irritated. "What's wrong with you today? Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?"

Frustration rears its ugly head in Annabeth. "No. I just feel like you're barely talking to me recently."

"That's not true—"

"It is! We even go to the same middle school now and I still hardly ever see you."

Percy visibly shrinks. "Well, I'm busy. I work here a lot."

"Yeah, but not all the time! Why are you trying to push me away?"

"I'm not trying to push you away!"

"It kinda seems like you are."

Percy balls his hands into fists, clenching and unclenching them. He opens his mouth to shoot something back at her, but seems to withdraw it at the last moment. He closes his eyes and says quietly, "Please don't be mad at me."

That wasn't the reaction Annabeth was expecting. Drawing a deep breath, she slowly says, "Helen said I should get you to talk to me about stuff."

Confusion flickers across Percy's face. "Stuff?"

"You know, like…things that are troubling you."

Percy's face turns stony. "Nothing's wrong."

"But there must be something—"

"Well, there isn't," he interrupts. He steps back, gaze downcast. "I'll see you at school."

"Wait, Percy—" Annabeth reaches out, but he's already walking away.

* * *

The next day, Mr Lee shows Annabeth to the darkroom. "Think of these negatives like raw files from a camera," he's telling her as he opens the door. "There's loads of ways you can use them, but we want to enlarge them. That's where the darkroom comes in."

Annabeth steps into the room, wide-eyed. Dozens of prints hang in strings from the ceiling, lit up only by a faint red bulb. "This is so cool," she breathes.

Mr Lee grins, which looks a little creepy in the red-hued light. "I know, right? Let's get started." He walks her through all the steps with patience, and by the end of it dozens of Annabeth's own prints are hung up and drying. The images on them are hazy, only half-visible.

Annabeth picks up the developed prints at the end of the day. Not all of them are in focus, but a lot of them look great. They're all monochromatic; Mr Lee said the process for developing colour-film was harder. As she shuffles through them, she finds herself transfixed by an image where Percy's face is turned to the side—in profile. His eyes are closed, and spider-like shadows fall from his lashes. It's a good photograph.

Guilt prickles at her, but she pushes it away. None of this is her fault.

* * *

As September fades away like old ink, the weather starts getting colder. Every year, winter seizes Virginia in an iron-clad fist, but this year it's happened earlier than usual. In response to the weather, Helen takes Annabeth shopping for new clothes: gloves, ankle boots, a fluffy coat. Annabeth is naturally a cold-blooded person, so she appreciates the comfort.

Annabeth hasn't seen Percy outside of school in a while. Even in class, he seems like less of himself than he's ever been. One day, Annabeth notices a blossom of ugly purple on Percy's jaw. The bruise is mostly covered by his hoodie, but it's still there. Has he fallen off his bike again? Annabeth doesn't know, and she isn't sure if she can ask. Lately, Percy's indifference towards her has turned into blatant hostility.

She cries to Helen about it that night, sitting on the coach. An old sitcom is on TV. It's a flimsy distraction. "I feel like I've done something wrong," Annabeth complains. "I even tried talking to him about it, but it's like he doesn't even care about our friendship anymore." She buries her face in Helen's shoulder, willing the salt brimming at her eyes to abate.

"Oh, Annabeth. It's not your fault, love," Helen tells her, gently pushing a lock of Annabeth's hair away from her damp cheek. "I'm sure you two will sort it out."

"But I don't know how to," she mumbles. "What can I say to him? He's like a different person."

"Ask him to come round here," Helen suggests. "You could bake something. You two always liked doing that."

"Yeah, maybe." Annabeth tucks her knees up into her chest, pulling the blanket over herself. "But what if…" She trails off.

"What, darling?" Helen pushes.

She stares at the TV, letting the colours blur together into a fog of static. "Well, I miss him. What if he doesn't miss me?"

Helen smiles, tucking Annabeth into a hug. "Don't be silly. Of course Percy misses you back."

"But—"

"Annabeth," Helen interrupts firmly. "Stop thinking so hard."

* * *

The end of October is nearing, and Annabeth and Leo make plans for the harvest festival alone. It's always been an unspoken truth that they'd go as a group, but Piper can't come as she's visiting her mom and Percy hasn't been in school for the last week so they're unable to ask him. To take her mind off the weirdness, Annabeth and Leo resolve to have as much fun as they can.

"This is impossible," Leo moans. He's standing in front of the mirror in Annabeth's bedroom, trying to attach cardboard triangles to each of his fingers, which have been spray-painted silver to resemble metal. "Maybe I should just tape a bunch of actual scissors to my hands."

Annabeth picks up the duct tape. "That sounds perfectly safe."

"Right?"

She grins. "I'm sure Jeanne would be fine with it."

He arches a brow as Annabeth carefully winds the tape around his pointer-finger, securing a sharp piece of cardboard to it. "Jeanne doesn't have to know."

Annabeth finishes attaching the last piece of cardboard. "There you are. Shall I do your makeup now?"

"Go for it. I need to look piss-your-pants scary."

Annabeth picks up a brush and the eyeshadow palette she borrowed from Helen. "Sure, but Edward Scissorhands isn't scary." To keep with the Tim Burton theme, Annabeth's going as Emily from _The Corpse Bride_.

"You're joking, right?"

"Well, he never hurts anyone."

"Have you _seen_ the movie?"

Annabeth rolls her eyes. "Fine—he never hurts anyone who doesn't deserve to be hurt. Close your eyes." Leo does so, and Annabeth starts gently applying dark eyeshadow to Leo's eyelid, blending it out. "Should I put some of this orange underneath your eyes? You know, 'cause he's always got that tired look about him."

"Okay. Not too much, though," Leo warns. "Then you can do the scar wax."

She nods. "Don't kill me if it looks bad."

"Are you kidding? Bad FX makeup is the best part of Halloween."

Annabeth laughs. "Not if you can barely tell what the scars are meant to be."

"Yeah, fair enough. Ask your stepmom, maybe. Didn't she used to be a makeup artist?"

"Helen!" Annabeth hollers.

A heartbeat later, Helen pokes her head around the door, looking faintly annoyed. "Try not to yell, sweetheart. What's wrong?"

"Can you help us with Leo's scar wax? We're trying to make him look like Edward Scissorhands."

Helen folds her arms. "Aren't you both a little young to have watched that movie?"

Annabeth frowns. "No. Jeanne let us rent it when I stayed at Leo's last weekend."

"Did she, now?" Helen smiles. "Alright. I can try my best, but the part-time job at Sephora I used to have in no way qualifies me to do special effects makeup, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Helen," Leo grins.

Helen sits down on the bed. "Sit here, darling. Annabeth, could you grab me some makeup wipes? I'm gonna try to fix the mess you've made of his eyes."

"Hey!" Annabeth protests. Grabbing the wipes off her shelf, she hands them to Helen. "I thought it looked good."

"Sure, sweetie." Carefully, Helen wipes off the eyeshadow and studies the photo of Edward Scissorhands they've printed out. "Don't blink, okay?" she tells Leo. With an expert hand, she begins to dust black pigment across his eyelid. She dips into the dark purple eyeshadow, too, and Annabeth is surprised at how well it adds to the effect. After a minute, she moves onto the other eye. "Would you like me to try and do the under-eye bags?" she asks. "I can't promise it'll look amazing."

"I don't mind," says Leo. Helen picks up a different brush and dips into a dark brown shade, building up the colour under Leo's eyes. She then blends it downwards with an ochre-like orange, exaggerating his under-eye bags. The whole effect is incredible, and she hasn't even started on the scars yet. Helen holds a mirror up to Leo's face. "Like it so far?"

He gapes. "Woah. I look awesome."

Helen smiles. "Alright. I'll start on the scar wax."

"Can you do _my_ makeup after?" Annabeth asks.

"Sure, darling. I'll do your hair, too. Get changed into your dress while you're waiting."

By the time Helen is done, Annabeth's hair is temporarily dyed cobalt and the blue blush staining her cheeks makes her seem even more gaunt than Leo. With her torn, white "wedding" dress, she's unmistakably the Corpse Bride.

"We look sick," Leo comments as they admire their reflections in the mirror. "Hey, we should get Helen to take a photo on her phone."

At that, Annabeth whips her head around. "I've got an even better idea," she breathes.

Five minutes later, the analog camera Annabeth had been using for her photography is in Helen's hands. Her and Leo are standing in the driveway, shoulder-to-shoulder. "You two look like a right pair," she says with a laugh, raising the camera to her face. A moment later, though, she winces. "Try looking a little more solemn?" she suggests. "We want this to resemble a vintage photograph—as though you two are from some outdated horror movie."

"What does solemn mean?" Leo whispers to Annabeth.

"Sad," she whispers back. "We need to look dead in the eyes."

"Sure. I can do dead in the eyes."

Once they're done, Annabeth thanks Helen and stores the raw film in a folder. "I'll ask Mr Lee to help me develop them next week. If they turn out well, I might submit them for the school's photography competition."

Excitement flares on Leo's face. "That'd be so cool!"

When they make it to the harvest festival, it's totally dark outside. "Please stay safe," Helen begs. "I'll be back to collect you in a few hours. If anything goes wrong, remember to call me on that flip phone I lent you. I need to trust that you won't get murdered, alright?"

"We won't!" Annabeth promises. The two of them pile out of the car, elated. Helen drives off with a screech of wheels, and it isn't long before even her headlights disappear into the countryside.

"Well, then. Shall we go, darling?" Leo asks her in an exaggerated Southern accent, offering her his elbow. In the night, his dark eyeshadow and jagged wax-scars make him look horrifying.

Annabeth takes his arm. Mimicking the accent, she replies, "Well, I reckon I'd love to." Together, they head down to the festival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a pretty slow-paced chapter today, but it's all build-up :) thanks for all the kind comments—y'all give me so much serotonin lmao. would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter! the next one will be up on wednesday as usual.


	6. battles of temptation

Lately, Percy's life has been exhausting. He's managed to convince Lucy to let him take more shifts despite his age, which is both good and bad. It means he's able to save up a little more money, but it also means hiding his work from Gabe is getting harder and harder. It seems like he's always hungry or tired, and he somehow hasn't spoken to Annabeth for a month. This was unintentional; at first, he was just swamped with both working at the mechanic's and trying to keep up with school. Then, his stepdad got in a week-long funk, and Percy had to watch his step with renewed fervour. The effort was all in vain, though—Gabe still gave Percy a black eye on Monday.

All of these things have worked together to create a domino effect, toppling Percy's mental state from occasionally poor to gutter-level. The main reason he started avoiding Annabeth is because he feels, sickeningly, like a burden. It's not fair of him to bring down his friends, too.

On the last day of October, Percy finishes his shift and heads home. His bones are heavy with exhaustion—last night, he barely slept. There was a dog barking somewhere in the trailer park, which kept him up. He hates being a light sleeper.

When he pushes open the gate to the trailer park, someone's yelling his name. "Percy!"

He glances sideways. When he sees who it is, he smiles. "Hey, Rachel. You alright?"

She's sitting outside her family's trailer in her wheelchair, a sketchbook open on her lap. As one of the only kids Percy's age in the trailer park, the two of them became fast friends. Rachel moved here a year ago—she used to live comfortably, but her family lost everything when her rich dad was jailed for fraud. "I'm good," she calls. "Come here and take a look at this."

Percy walks over, smiling amusedly. She lifts her sketchbook to show him what she's working on. It's an illustration of the trailer park, viewed from where she's sitting. "Wow, that's great! You really captured its ugliness."

"Thanks," she grins. "You going to the harvest festival later?"

Percy frowns. "I forgot it was on, if I'm honest." He wonders if Annabeth and the others are going, then pushes the thought out of his mind. "Probably not—I'm so tired. Why, are you planning on going?"

She nods. "Yeah, I'm going as Buffy."

"What, you got a blonde wig and everything?"

Rachel grins. "'Course. Buffy's not a redhead."

"Sounds awesome." He steps back. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Alright. Bye, Percy." Rachel gives him a wave, already returning to her drawing.

Percy fishes in his pocket for his keys as he walks up the steps to his trailer, but his hands come up empty. "Oh, god." He checks under the flowerpot, then under the steps, but it's useless. He knows the spare is inside. Bracing himself, he knocks on the door.

From inside, Gabe shouts, "What?"

Percy squeezes his eyes shut before calling back, "I left my key."

He hears Gabe huff, then the creak of footsteps. The door opens. Instantly, the stink of tobacco washes over Percy; Gabe must have been smoking with the windows shut again. He narrows his eyes. "It's seven. Doesn't your school finish at three?"

"I was with friends."

Gabe scowls. "You've got nerve, coming back so late."

Percy doesn't mention that he's usually home much, much later and Gabe never notices. "Sorry, sir."

"You're being a little prick, you know that?"

"Christ, can I just come inside?" he asks, then immediately wishes he could bite the words back.

Gabe lets out a bellowing laugh. "I don't think so. Why don't you go back to your friends?" With that, he slams the door in Percy's face. The lock turns.

Percy groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. He turns around and walks back down the trailer's steps, kicking over a bin in frustration. After a long moment of wondering what to do, he makes a decision. He yells, "Rachel?"

* * *

Every Halloween, the harvest festival's music echoes across Virginia's countryside to the trailer park, whispering ripe temptation in Percy's ears. Last year was the first time he went, making this the second. He both desperately wants to see Annabeth there and is vehemently terrified that he will.

Rachel wheels along beside him. True to her word, she's donned a blonde wig. She's also changed into a leather jacket, and on her immovable legs she's wearing a matching pair of knee-high black boots. There's a stake in her pocket that Percy is deathly aware of because she threatened him with it when he showed up.

"Do you think I could pass for eighteen to buy drinks?" Rachel asks, completely serious.

Percy grins. "You are aware that you're only twelve, right?" At that, she attempts to ram her wheelchair into Percy's ankle. "Hey!" he protests, darting away. "What was I thinking? Of course you could."

"I bet I could with some makeup on," she muses. "I'll just get one of the college kids to let me have a sip from their flask."

The two of them head into the festival. It's in full swing. Above them, the night sky is clear—due to their town's lack of light pollution, the stars are blazing. Percy grabs the handles of Rachel's wheelchair and pushes her towards the nearby stage, running. She shrieks, but quickly devolves into laughter.

An hour passes, during which the knowledge that he's been kicked out is tossed to the back of his mind. He and Rachel end up by the bonfire with some other kids from Mileview, listening to the horror stories they have to tell. For some reason, the tales they whisper about hardly scare him. Bloodthirsty ghosts and spirits that drive you insane seem childish to Percy; he can think of crueler monsters.

After a while, he leaves Rachel by the bonfire talking to one of the private school girls. He walks deeper into the festival, breathing in the sweet smells of toffee and chocolate. It's an effort to stop thinking about the writhing knot of hunger in his stomach and avoid peering into the stalls. He knows he hasn't got any money.

Percy ends up by the pumpkin carving tent. For a moment, he's caught up in the memory of last year, of finding Annabeth here after not talking to her for a while. Of course he managed to screw up again. It's probably in his nature, ingrained deep in his sprawling veins.

"Percy?"

He whirls around, startled. "Annabeth?" She's standing behind him, a virgin cocktail in hand. Her hair's tinted blue and she's wearing a torn-up wedding dress, which confuses Percy for a moment before he realises it must be her Halloween costume. "I didn't think I'd see you here," he says dumbly.

"I come every year," she says. Her words are cold, but she's betrayed by her eyes, which brim with relief. Almost subconsciously, Percy steps forward. Annabeth steps back. "What?" she shoots at him.

There's a thousand things he wants to say. _I missed you. I'm sorry. Can we be friends again?_ Instead, he comes up with, "I like your blue hair."

"It's temporary," she says, looking faintly stunned. "I'm Emily—the Corpse Bride."

"I can tell."

She crosses her arms. "You didn't dress up. Just like last year."

Percy's throat is turning dry. "I didn't know I was even coming. It was last minute."

"Oh." Silence hangs between them for a few long moments, damp and suffocating. Percy steps forward again, but this time Annabeth doesn't step back. "Why was it last minute?"

Chest feeling sticky, Percy manages, "Got kicked out for the night." That's the first he's ever said about any of it to anyone.

"Oh," she says again. "Do you…do you want to stay at mine?"

And God, that's so ridiculous that Percy almost laughs. "Why, though?"

Annabeth's brow goes all furrowed. "What?"

"Why would you want me there? I've been a rubbish friend."

Her expression softens. "Because you can't exactly sleep in a field."

"I probably could."

"Well, I don't want you to. And my parents won't mind." Annabeth reaches out and takes Percy's sleeve. Tentatively, she folds him into a hug.

Without even intending to, Percy releases a slow breath. Annabeth is warm, all glowy and soft around the edges. All of a sudden, he realises who he's been constantly, chaotically orbiting around this whole damn time. "Thanks," he mumbles.

"You're welcome, idiot." She pulls away, planting her hands on her hips. _Oh, there she is._ "Care to explain why you haven't spoken to me, Leo or Piper for nearly a month?"

Percy grimaces, pulling his sleeves down over his knuckles. "It was an accident."

"I bet."

"Work's been hard. So's school. I was sick for a while…" He trails off. He doesn't want to talk about his stepdad. "I thought you hated me."

Annabeth glares at him. "Well, I don't," she insists. "None of us do. You promised you wouldn't do this, remember? Last year, you promised you wouldn't be a stranger."

Suddenly, Percy finds the ground between his feet very interesting. "I don't want to be."

"So, don't."

He jerks his head up. Annabeth's gaze is storm-like, a sentient hurricane. "It's not that easy," he protests. "I don't know how…I don't know how to—"

"It's not rocket science!" she bursts out. "Just—be there. Don't shut us out." She pauses. When she speaks again, her tone is resigned. "Don't shut me out."

"Okay," he breathes. "I won't."

"You can mess up, you know. I'm not gonna mind."

Percy nods, though he isn't sure he believes it. He asks, "Are the others here?"

"Only Leo. I should probably go find him."

He hesitates. "Can I come? I just need to let my friend know where I'll be."

"Of course." Annabeth smiles, and it's like everything is okay with the world again.

Later, Helen picks the three of them up. She doesn't raise an eyebrow when Percy gets in the car, just gives him a warm smile and asks, "Is Percy staying over, then?"

When they get out of the car, he thanks Helen quietly. He doesn't realise how stressed he is until Helen takes his arm, lowering her voice for privacy. Leo and Annabeth have already gone inside. "Percy, darling," she says. "Is everything alright? You don't need to lie."

He can barely form a sentence. "Yeah."

"Percy," Helen says firmly. "I need you to know that even though you're not my child, I care about you. You're important to Annabeth—anyone can see that—so you're important to me. If you ever need somewhere to go or someone to talk to, just remember that I'm here." She pauses, and in that sudden silence lies so many unspoken things. "I can always see when a kid is lonely, or sad, or needing help. Even though I don't know your situation, I believe I might understand more than you think."

Percy doesn't know when he went still, or how long it's been since he last moved. Something in Helen's words is kind, but her tone is alien to him. He wants to ask why she cares so much about a trailer park kid, but he can't summon the words. He's afraid. "I don't know what you're talking about," he murmurs, voice a thousand miles away.

At that, Helen looks upset. She pulls Percy into a hug and without meaning to, Percy leans into it. When had he become so desperate for human contact? Almost inaudibly, she tells him, "Please believe me when I say you deserve so much more than you know." Percy has no idea what to say, how to process her sympathy. His thoughts are a mess of jumbled, sizzling wires.

Helen lets go, offering him a kind smile. "God, it's freezing out here, isn't it? Let's go in—I'll make us all some hot chocolate."

That night, Percy stares up at the luminous plastic stars on Annabeth's ceiling. He's on a mat on the floor beside Annabeth's bed. Leo's snoring away next to him. For the first time in a while, he doesn't feel cold and hungry. Everything about it is impossible, a pipe dream. He keeps expecting to wake up, to be wrenched out of this paradise. His desire to stop overthinking is lesser only than his desire to make sense of reality. Eventually, exhaustion wins out and an empty sort of sleep envelops Percy like lukewarm water.

His dreams are as gentle as they come.

* * *

After that, everything in Percy's life seems to brighten marginally. He tries to keep his promise and not be a stranger. It's hard, sometimes—but it's worth it. He starts hanging out with the others again, seeing Annabeth and Piper and Leo as much as he can. It's a shock, realising how much he missed them.

Of course, the bad things are there, too. But they fade into the background.

By the time the Christmas holidays roll around, Percy has become more intimately acquainted with the cold than ever before. The trailer's heating is shut off due to Gabe's stony dismissal of the latent bills in the kitchen drawer, but Virginian winters hardly care about that. He can't admit it to himself, but the cold is part of the reason he's around Annabeth's place so often lately. Whenever the pain in his stiff joints grows too much to bear, her house is a safe, warm haven.

On Christmas Eve, Gabe always disappears off to go get drunk with his work friends. And as Gabe never cares what Percy does when he's out drinking, Percy decides to accept Annabeth's invitation to spend the evening with her family.

Helen looks delighted when he stumbles inside, freezing from cycling all the way in the bleak weather. "Percy! How are you, dear?"

"I'm good, ma'am," Percy replies, smiling. He rubs his blue-tinged hands together, trying to get the blood flow going. Holding onto his bike's ice-cold handlebars for so long is never pleasant. "Thanks for letting me come."

"Jesus, you look cold," she fusses. "I'll grab you a warm blanket from the airing cupboard." She disappears into another room, calling back, "Wait there, sweetheart!"

"Percy? Is that you?" Annabeth yells from upstairs.

"Yeah," he shouts. There's a crash, and then Annabeth's face appears from around the banister. She's wearing a fluffy Christmas jumper with snowflakes on it, and she looks endlessly blushy and warm. "Hi," he says, hesitant.

Annabeth bursts into an elated grin and he kind of wants to die a little. She runs down the stairs and tackles him in a hug, practically crushing his ribs. "Merry Christmas!"

"It's not Christmas yet," he protests.

"Shut it. Christmas Eve is still Christmas." She looks him up and down, brows furrowed in thought. "Hey, you know what you need?"

"What?"

"A Christmas jumper. A hideous one, at that."

Percy laughs, already shaking his head. "Uh, no. I'm alright, thanks."

"She's right—there's no avoiding it," Helen tells him, returning with a soft grey blanket. She hands it to Percy, who takes it with a kind of reverence. He doesn't think he's ever touched anything so nice before. "Christmas jumpers are compulsory. Annabeth, go fetch him one."

Throwing a smile in Percy's direction, Annabeth runs back upstairs. Percy takes his shoes off, leaving them on the rack. He gingerly wraps the blanket Helen gave him around his shoulders.

Once Percy's suitably dressed in a bright reindeer jumper that's about six sizes too big for him, they sit down to eat. Percy sits opposite Bobby, who has a lot of questions for him. "How come you're here instead of at home?" Bobby asks, leaning on his elbows. His curly brown hair is as riotous as ever, a halo around his baby-face.

Percy picks up a fork, shrugging. "My dad's busy," he says carefully. It might've been the first time he's voluntarily mentioned anything to do with his family.

"Well, we're glad to have you here," Frederick tells him. "Thank you for this dinner, Helen. It looks amazing," he adds, kissing his wife on the cheek. "Who'd like to say grace?" Frederick is loose and relaxed, a result of the champagne he and Helen have been drinking since Percy arrived. It made Percy nervous at first, seeing Annabeth's parents drinking—in Percy's experience, alcohol never failed to bring irritation and moodiness and rage. Seeing that the loss of their inhibitions only makes Helen and Frederick more affectionate is a cruel shock to him and he can't curb his anxiety that the flip could switch any second.

Annabeth beams. "I'll say it!" Helen's lips quirk as she nods, extending her hands. Percy takes her hand, holding his other out flat for Annabeth to take. Once the circle is linked, Annabeth bows her head and shuts her eyes. "Bless us, oh Lord, for these thy gifts that we're about to receive from thy bounty. We're grateful for your kindness," she adds, "and recognise our privilege. Amen."

"Amen," everyone repeats, though Percy is off by a beat.

Helen beams. "That was lovely, Annabeth." Tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear, she says, "Now, let's eat."

Dinner is, in Percy's opinion, pretty much heaven. He and Annabeth chat about stuff like school and their excitement for Tristan's movie premiere, and Percy lets himself stop thinking for a while. The atmosphere is warm and golden and perfect—everything that Percy knows he should associate with Christmas Eve, but doesn't.

Once they've almost finished eating, Annabeth offers Percy a small parcel. "Here," she says. "It's your present."

Percy gapes and stutters, "But…but I didn't get you anything!"

She laughs. "Don't worry. It was a last-minute thing, anyway. C'mon, open it."

Percy hesitates, then gives her a half-smile as he starts prising off the wrapping paper. It's a box. He opens it. Inside is a bracelet made of black leather. A tiny, silver letter _P_ hangs on it. "Like the necklace I gave you," he murmurs.

"Is it alright?" Annabeth asks. She sounds nervous. "I don't know… I just thought—"

Percy throws his arms around her, squeezing his eyes shut. "This is the nicest thing anyone's ever given me," he says. "Thank you. You're amazing."

When he pulls away, Annabeth's cheeks are rosy. "I'm glad you like it."

"Of course I like it," he says quietly. They look at each other for a moment, smiling.

Across the kitchen, Frederick switches on the radio. When _The Night We Met_ comes on, he whoops. "God, this song!" He takes Helen's hand, spinning her around to face him. "May I have this dance, my love?" he asks, a sloppy grin on his face.

Helen giggles. "Oh, what a handsome suitor!" There isn't an ounce of sobriety in the way the pair of them melt into each other, swaying to the smooth vocals and slow beat. Their steps are messy and they're constantly stumbling over each others' feet, but neither of them seem to care. Frederick kisses Helen, bumping his glasses on her nose. They start laughing, caught up in a joke only the two of them seem to understand.

Watching them, Percy doesn't understand how their drunkenness is so gentle. So innocent. He turns his gaze back to Annabeth, who's smiling at him. "Wanna dance?" she asks. "It's Christmas Eve, after all." Standing up, she offers Percy her hand.

Percy hesitates. Still, after a moment of deliberation, he takes her hand. What does he have to lose?

He dances with Annabeth, jumping around and swaying to whatever music the radio empties out. Bobby and Matthew join them, and soon it's a party. Percy feels warm and malleable all over, like the evening has melted him down and remoulded him. Surrounded by Annabeth's family, he feels irrevocably and insurmountably safe.

Soon enough, midnight arrives. Helen's mostly sobered up, so she goes to grab her coat. "Put your shoes on, love. I'll drive you home."

He doesn't want to leave, but he knows he has to. Annabeth gets up from where she's lying on the sofa. "I'm coming too," she announces.

The car journey home is nice. Annabeth leans against him, closing her eyes. "I'm tired," she mumbles. Percy can't tear his eyes away from where Annabeth's pale eyelashes skim her freckled cheeks. He lets her sleep on his shoulder, staring out into the night. It's so cold outside that his trepid breaths turn into condensation on the window's single-paned glass.

They pull up outside the trailer park. Helen turns around, smiling softly. "Bye, Percy. Have a lovely Christmas."

Percy wakes Annabeth with a touch. At her confused expression, he says, "We've arrived."

"Oh," she says, rubbing her knuckles into her eyes. She hugs Percy, holding on for a second too long. "Goodbye. Merry Christmas."

"Thanks—you too. I'll see you on New Year's?" She nods. Percy opens the car door, stepping out. At once, an ocean of cold, bracing air rushes into the car. Percy shivers. "Thanks for having me, Helen. Dinner was really nice."

"It's no problem, sweetheart. We loved having you."

"Bye, Annabeth," he adds, giving her a wave. Even though she's practically already asleep again, she waves back. Percy shuts the door, and the slam echoes with cruel finality. As he walks the vacant burnt-grass path through the trailer park, Percy stares at the bracelet on his wrist. The silver _P_ on it glitters in the moonlight. He thinks it's the most beautiful thing he owns.

He opens the door to the trailer. With a shuddering breath, he goes inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! percy spending christmas eve with annabeth is the softest thing haha. let me know what you thought! the next update will be on sunday as usual :)


	7. help you sleep

2005 arrives and crashes over Percy like a flood that threatens to submerge his head. He's okay, though. He's learned to depend on Annabeth, Piper and Leo a little more, to remain present and visible within their tight-knit group rather than shutting himself away when things get rough. But, God, things can get rough. Percy sometimes can't stop scrutinising himself with a careful eye, searching for the reason behind Gabe's indifference that could swing brutally to contempt at any time. What's wrong with him? Some nights, Percy lies awake and yearns for a family like Annabeth's so badly that he can barely breathe.

School is monotonous—there's no other way to describe it. Still, walking into class every morning and seeing Annabeth is the highlight of his day, no matter how tired he is. Every week, he helps her and Piper with their photography projects. Annabeth's pretty good at it, which is surprising.

Piper mainly does it for fun, but he can tell Annabeth's starting to take it seriously. She often talks about submitting her work for various competitions when she gets good enough. Percy can't completely understand her drive—often, her excitement just washes over him. Still, he supposes it's kind of like his job at the machine shop. He desperately wants to understand cars so Lucy can sign him on as a real mechanic when he's old enough. It's a hopeless thought, but by the time he hits high school he dreams he might have enough money to move out of the trailer and into some shitty apartment in town.

Percy's present sometimes seems so bleak that thinking about the future is all that keeps him going.

It's a quiet Thursday in early April, and Percy's lying on the floor in Piper's room, holding one of her prints up above him. He squints at it, turning the photo this way and that. "What's this meant to be?" he asks, mostly thinking out loud.

Piper turns around from her desk, Converse flying out from her spinning-chair. In her hand is a pair of scissors, which she's using to cut up and collage her prints. "Oh, that. It's a reflection in a puddle. Mr Lee wanted me to try something a bit more abstract. I dunno—I had a vision. It didn't come true."

"Yeah, I can tell," he mutters. He drops the print by his head, heaving a sigh. "I'm so bored."

"Same," Piper agrees. "Wanna do something?"

"Like what?"

She shrugs. "We could go into town. Get something to eat."

Percy doesn't have any better ideas. "Yeah, okay."

It's hot outside, so neither of them take a jacket. Percy's on his skateboard, and he skates in circles around Piper as she walks along. The rough, cracked concrete below Percy sends vibrations up through his ankles, threatening to topple him, but he's used to these streets. He knows he won't fall.

Suddenly, Piper grabs his sleeve with urgency. "Hey, watch it!' he protests, only just regaining his balance.

With a grin, Piper points at the ice-cream van across the road. "I've got some change. You want one?"

Percy tries not to salivate. He hasn't eaten today and an ice-cream sounds amazing right now. "Okay. I'll pay you back tomorrow."

Piper rolls her eyes. "Percy, they're like a dollar each. Don't worry about it."

"You sure?" Piper doesn't bother with a reply to the question, already striding towards the van. Percy glides after her, kicking his board up into his hands when they reach the window.

The lady inside gives them a beaming smile. "Well, hey. What can I do for you?"

Piper squints up the sign. "Can I get a Solero?"

She nods. "And for the gentleman?"

"A bubblegum popsicle, please," Percy says.

"Of course, love." Piper pays her, and she hands over the change. Soon, a bubblegum popsicle is pressed into Percy's hand.

They sit on a bench in the square to unwrap their prizes, letting the sun wash over them. A busker is standing in the middle of the square, crooning into a microphone as her hands wander over the keyboard in front of her. Her black hair is twisted into dreadlocks and her softly moving lips are painted with red lipstick. Piper and Percy listen, entranced. "I wish I could perform like that," she says wistfully.

"Maybe you can."

"What?"

"Well, you're not gonna know unless you try. Besides, we already know you're a good singer." They lapse into silence again. Percy starts on his popsicle.

"I'm gonna go up to her," Piper decides out of nowhere.

"What? Why?"

"I'm gonna ask how I can learn to perform like her." Standing up, Piper hands him her half-eaten Solero. "Stay here. I'll be back in a sec."

"Wait—" Percy starts, but Piper's already gone. He watches with interest as she walks over. She stands by the woman until she finishes her song, then steps forward. The woman smiles at her and says something Percy can't quite make out. Piper replies, gesturing. Their conversation lasts for a few minutes. Soon, the woman returns to her keyboard, this time coaxing out a simple instrumental.

Piper walks back over to Percy, grinning. "That was so cool!"

Percy hands back her Solero, which is now mostly melted. "What did she say?"

"All sorts of stuff. She suggested I find a music group or try out a singing tutor. I should learn an instrument, too—she said the guitar is pretty easy to learn and it compliments vocals nicely."

Piper's excitement is contagious, and Percy finds himself mirroring her smile. "Reckon this could be your calling?" he asks.

She shrugs. "Like you said, I won't know until I try."

They finish their popsicles. Piper won't stop making fun of Percy's blue-stained tongue, but he doesn't mind. As they walk away from the square, Percy catches Piper glancing back at the busker, something akin to longing in her gaze.

For the next month, Piper is determination incarnate. She makes Percy, Annabeth or Leo sit with her while she practices guitar, listening to her dissonant chords that slowly turn into something a little more coherent. She rarely sings in front of any of them, though. Percy can't make sense of this, at first, until Piper tells him it's because singing reminds her too much of her dead Grandpa Tom who'd first introduced her to music. Still, Piper works through it with the same headstrong ferocity she applies to all her endeavours.

At the same time, Percy knuckles down on his work at the machine shop. Lucy is surprised at how fast he progresses. Her praise spurs Percy on, and he works even harder. By the time June rolls around, Percy's starting to do real work on cars. "I'm reluctant to let you do this," she tells him once on the way out of her workshop, "but you've got more passion than any of my employees. When you're old enough, I'll be more than willing to offer you a job as a real mechanic."

Her words elevate Percy to cloud nine. "Thank you, ma'am," he tells her stiffly, trying not to let his elation bleed through into his voice.

Lucy notices. She smiles, patting him on the shoulder. "You deserve it, Percy. Now, go lock up. It's late." Her appreciation is addictive. Percy thinks this must be what it's like to have a parent who's proud of you.

As usual, summer brings a unique atmosphere of happiness unlike any other. As he's so often working outside in the machine shop courtyard, Percy's skin tans more quickly than usual. In contrast, Annabeth's blonde hair lightens, gaining streaks of flaxen white.

Even when Gabe's spite becomes physical, he feels beautifully detached from it. The good things in his life are _enough._ Stuff that happens in the trailer can't pollute the rest of his life so easily anymore. It's the main reason he never lets any of the others come back to the trailer park. Denial works, and it often seems like the only way forward. The whole summer passes in this manner, rolling by inoffensively. For Annabeth's birthday, Percy saves up and buys a new charm for her necklace: a small silver camera. Annabeth loves it.

Turning twelve is weird. In a year he'll be a teenager, but he feels as young and naive as ever. It doesn't help that Annabeth is taller than him—he thinks when he has a growth spurt will be when he finally feels old. For his birthday, she gives him a charm, too: a sleek blue bead that glitters with tiny rhinestones. Percy slides it onto his bracelet alongside the silver _P_. He wears it with reverence, terrified of losing it. When he's in the trailer, he always tucks the bracelet into his sleeve. The idea of Gabe seeing it and ripping it off him is sickening.

When November arrives, Percy is unexpectedly and painfully wrenched out of the false sense of security he's been lulled into. He's gotten cocky, started being less careful about hiding his job at the machine shop from his stepdad. Gabe confronts him one day after school with a scowl, slamming a hand down on the table. Percy jolts, his pencil skidding across his math homework. "I was talking to a friend at work today," Gabe says. "He told me that he always sees you going in and out of the machine shop in town." There's a long, sickening pause. "You wanna tell me why that is?"

Percy shrinks. "I uh—I got a job."

"Are you a fucking retard? Speak up!"

Holding tight onto the pencil in his hand, Percy forces himself to meet Gabe's suffocating gaze. "I got a job," he repeats, bracing himself.

Gabe leans in close. He stinks of cigarette smoke. "I'd like to know why the fuck you didn't mention it. Bet you wanted to keep all the money for yourself, hm?" He smiles, slow and unhurried. Instantly, a cold sort of anxiety washes into Percy's stomach; smiling always turns out worse than shouting. "I'll be speaking to your employer tomorrow. Lucy, isn't it? I'll find out how much you earn, and you'd best believe it's all going toward the bills. You do live under my roof, don't you?"

Percy can't look him in the eyes anymore. "Yes, sir."

"You're a little ungrateful shit, aren't you? How much cash have you got hidden away?" Gabe jabs a finger into Percy's chest, and his smile turns ugly. "You better go get it for me, or I'll turn your room upside down myself."

Percy's hands are shaking. As he stands up, he curls them tightly into fists in an effort to still them. The few steps it takes to reach his room feels like a lifetime. He opens his door, feeling his vision tilt. Kneeling down, he takes the mason jar out from under his bed and hands it to Gabe.

Two years worth of earnings, gone. His chances of moving out when he hits high school diminish right in front of his eyes. He wants to kick and scream, to argue back, but his body isn't his own anymore. It belongs to the iron fist that has settled around his ribcage. Percy feels himself fade away, tune out the barrage of shouting Gabe plunges into. The universe around him moves like mercury through a thermometer as time slows down. He feels Gabe slap him across the face, and as he staggers his hearing returns like a blast of cold air. "—dumb kid! What the hell do you have to say for yourself?"

"I'm sorry," is all Percy can manage. As he speaks, he feels hot blood drip into his mouth. His hand moves without his volition. When his fingers press against his top lip, they come away crimson. The colour is a shock to Percy's senses, a fracture in his sight. "I didn't mean—"

"Shut the fuck up," Gabe shouts. He shoves Percy against the doorframe, knocking the air out of his lungs. "Get out," he orders. "I don't wanna look at you for another goddamn second."

Percy scrambles to his feet, head spinning. He turns and walks away, knowing that if he runs then Gabe would just come after him. Instead, he steadily walks to the door and opens it, almost unable to unlock the latch. Like a zombie, he closes the door behind him and walks down the steps. Silent tears run down his face, mixing with the blood on his mouth. "God," he mumbles. He lifts the hem of his sleeve to his face and dabs at it, but the effort doesn't do much. He scrubs more viciously, suddenly wanting the blood off his face so badly that he wants to scream. "God. God." He sits down heavily on the bottom step of the trailer and stares into space. His body still won't associate with his mind, so he doesn't force it to.

Ten minutes pass until Percy stops shaking. He's not crying anymore. Willing himself not to fall over, he stands up. Where can he go? He looks left and right, a little dumbly. _There_. Rachel's trailer. He makes for it, almost tripping over his feet.

He knocks on the door once, then twice. Nothing. He does it again. This time, Rachel comes to the door. Her curly hair is loose and she's wearing pajamas. "Fuck you," she grumbles, rubbing her eyes. "I had to get out of bed and into my wheelchair to come open the stupid door." Then, her gaze latches onto Percy's bleeding face. She gapes. "Oh, wow. Are you okay? What happened?"

Percy doesn't answer her question. "Is your mom in?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "No—no, she's in town with a friend. Percy, seriously. What happened?"

Percy unclenches his hands, realising they're still curled into fists. "Fell down the steps of the trailer."

Rachel barks out a laugh. "Sure. That's why you've shown up here rather than just going home."

"Rachel, please…" Voice breaking, he squeezes his eyes shut. "Please don't."

Her expression softens. "Okay," she says. "Come inside. I'll help you wash that blood off your face."

* * *

True to Gabe's word, he goes and speaks to Lucy about Percy's paycheck the very next day. Percy's certain that she'll tell him, that he won't be able to save any money from his job. When he shows up for his shift, Lucy looks worried. "Jackson, you alright?" she asks. "Your dad dropped by this morning. He was mighty rude—shouted in my face and demanded to know exactly what you earn."

Percy grimaces. "Yeah, I thought he would. What'd you tell him?"

Crossing her brown forearms over her chest, Lucy arches a brow. "I told him you earn a quarter of what you really do, of course. What, you think I'd screw you over?" Percy exhales in relief, sagging slightly. She goes on, "Men like him always get what's coming to 'em. If he shows up here again, I'll have a bone to pick with him. Mark my words."

Hesitant, Percy smiles. "Thank you." In fleeting, uncertain ripples, hope begins to flow back into his chest. Three quarters…it might be enough. Especially if he manages to land a second job somewhere.

"Yeah, yeah," Lucy drones, waving away his gratitude. "I don't like anyone walking all over my employees, particularly if they're as much of an asshole as your dad." Turning to walk away, she calls over her shoulder, "Finish up with those receipts as quick as you can. I need help with an oil change."

* * *

The fact that Gabe has found out about his job is a vindictive nightmare with a dull silver lining. Though Percy no longer has to worry about keeping his job a secret, he now has to build his entire savings up from scratch. He starts taking more shifts to make up for the loss, something that Lucy only allows because she knows he's making less now. He also asks for a job in the diner—it pays far less than his gig at the machine shop. Due to his age, he receives less than half the minimum wage. A fraction of that, after taxes.

Still, he's grateful for it. The prospect of moving out in high school is a far-off fantasy, but it seems attainable again with every day that passes after the incident.

He has almost no free time, but he tries to make up for it by hanging out with Annabeth and the others as much as he can and always doing his homework at hers rather than at home. Whenever he talks about work, though, a concerned look crosses Annabeth's face. He already knows her opinion on the fact he works so much. He tries to explain by telling her that he's just saving for college, but it's clear she doesn't quite believe him.

It's a cold Thursday in January and Percy's sitting on Annabeth's soft carpet, trying to do his English homework. They're studying Macbeth, and hell if Percy isn't completely and utterly lost. It's due first thing in the morning—Percy hasn't been able to snatch a spare second earlier in the week to get it done. He absently chews on the cap of his fountain pen, reading the same passage in Macbeth over and over. He's supposed to write a twelve-mark essay on this scene—the Captain's speech—but none of it makes sense to him. To what extent _does_ the Captain portray Macbeth as a quintessential hero? He scours his brain for an answer but comes up depressingly empty-handed.

"Percy? You okay?"

He jerks his head up to see Annabeth peering down at him from up on her bed. She's lying on her stomach, chin resting on her forearms. An endeared expression is on her face. Mouth dry, Percy asks, "Huh?"

"Are you okay? You haven't stopped staring at that one paragraph for the past five minutes."

He sighs, rubbing his eyes. "Sorry. Just feeling spacey." With a groan, he flops backwards. "I hate essays."

"When's it due?"

"Tomorrow."

Annabeth gets up off the bed and stretches, then sits down crossed-legged beside him. "Oh, is this that essay about the Captain's speech?"

"Yes," he mumbled.

"You know we've had a week to do it, right?"

"I know, shut up. Just haven't had any time."

Ignoring him, Annabeth picks up the extract sheet and a highlighter. "First of all, find some quotes relating to the essay question." Pointedly, she highlights _brave Macbeth_ and _bloody execution_. "Alright, now think about it. Any others that could work?"

Percy thinks for a moment, then points uncertainly to a line. " _Like valour's minion carved out his passage_?"

Annabeth smiles, highlighting it. "Nice. _Valour_ relates to the trope of a quintessential hero, and _carved out_ holds connotations of savagery and violence, which causes Macbeth to seem…?" She gestures for Percy to follow on.

"Ruthless?"

She grins, which warms Percy to the core. "Right on. Okay, now jot that down as a bullet point."

They spend the next half an hour working on Percy's essay. By the end of it, they're left with the best response Percy's ever come up with. He hugs Annabeth, elated. "You're amazing."

Annabeth's ears go red. "Don't worry about it. You barely needed any help."

"No, seriously. I think I kinda understand English Lit now."

Annabeth laughs. "It's really just a matter of actually, like, following the structure they recommend and giving your opinion in a formal way."

Percy stares at her. "God, you're so smart," he says, and immediately wishes he could stuff the words right back in his mouth.

She shoves him lightly. "Whatever." Heaving a sigh, she flops down on her bed. "I'm so tired."

Percy lies next to her, gaze vacant as he stares up at the ceiling. "How come?" he asks absently.

"I haven't been sleeping well recently," she murmurs. "Helen thinks it's insomnia."

He shifts to look at her, frowning. Annabeth's got one arm cast over her face, covering her eyes. "What's insomnia?" he asks.

"Don't completely know. Just that my brain won't switch off even when I'm exhausted."

"I'll make your brain switch off for you." He reaches over and boops her on the forehead. "Beep, beep. Powering down," he drones, all robot-like.

Annabeth tries and fails not to laugh. "I really wish it worked like that."

Percy's silent for a moment. "If it'd help you sleep, I wish it did too."

Annabeth turns her head to look at him. In the dim light, her normally ash-grey eyes are darker than charcoal. "You must be tired as well," she tells him. "You work way too much. You must be breaking some sort of child labour law."

He nods. Luckily for him, Lucy and the old-fashioned couple who own the diner don't care too much about that kind of thing. "Well, at least I can fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow."

"Still." She raises her thumb nail to her teeth, chewing on her raw cuticle in that way she always does. "College is so far off," she muses. "I'm nowhere near as proactive as you, with your saving. Don't think I've ever even see you buy a milkshake when we go to the diner."

He doesn't say anything. After a moment of deliberation, he makes a rash decision. With a drawn-out wince, he says, "It's not all for college."

Annabeth looks confused. "What's it for, then?"

He sighs, already regretting saying anything. "Nothing. Don't worry."

She gives him a look. "Well, now I'm curious!"

He really, really doesn't want to tell her. "I said don't worry," he insists, voice harsh and grating without meaning to be.

Annabeth opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again a few heartbeats later. She nods slowly. Being prideful creatures, it's taken years of friendship to learn when not to push. They've been through countless episodes of painful trial and error that often end in arguments. Right now, Annabeth seems to get the sense that she should leave alone. "What time have you gotta be home?" she asks instead.

Percy glances up at the clock on Annabeth's wall. It's past ten, but he isn't worried. Gabe's probably still passed out drunk on the couch. "Not quite yet," he responds.

"Then…do you wanna go make some hot chocolate?"

"Sure." He pauses. "Are there any mini marshmallows left over from last time?"

She smiles, and Percy feels winded. In a good way, though. "There might be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, and for all the lovely comments on last chapter! let me know what you thought of this one. I kind of love the concept of annabeth helping percy out with his homework when he doesn't have time to get it done :,) 
> 
> as usual, the next chapter will be up on wednesday.


	8. chalk lines

For as long as she's known him, Annabeth has wondered why Percy never talks about his parents. She isn't stupid—she knows not everyone's lucky enough to have parents like her own. When she first met him, she wanted to know why he never invited her to his house. Still, that mystery was solved when she laid eyes on the trailer park. It seems stupid that he thinks she'd judge him for living there, but she understands. Kind of.

Without much celebration, January blows over and becomes February. It's weird that they're already in their second year of middle school—it feels like she was only ten not long ago, stumbling over a bruised boy in the road that'd soon become her best friend. Now, they're nearly teenagers.

Percy comes round to her house on most weeknights after his shift at the machine shop. He always has late homework to get done, which isn't a surprise; Annabeth doesn't think she'd ever be able to finish any if she worked even half as much as Percy does. It's become a routine that he comes over, Annabeth helps him out with homework, and then they sit around and chat for a while before he has to leave.

Recently, Annabeth's noticed that Leo's been acting weird. Avoidant. And when she _does_ see him, he always looks downcast and exhausted. She mentions her concern to Piper and Percy, but neither of them have any answers. "School's probably just wearing him out," Piper suggests.

Annabeth accepts the excuse, even though she doesn't think that's the reason. She tries for a while to put it out of her mind, but then she'll notice the dark circles printed beneath Leo's eyes, or his chewed-up fingernails, or the way he'll randomly zone out when they're having a conversation. She resolves to confront him.

One day after school, she jogs up to him outside the school bike shed. He's facing away from her, busy forcing a bike helmet over his nimbus of black curls. "Leo!"

He turns around, offering her a faint smile. "Oh. Hi, Annabeth." Somehow, he looks even more tired than usual. With a pang, Annabeth is reminded of the way Percy looks sometimes.

She tries not to look too stern. "Okay. I didn't want to have to ask this, but…" She sets her jaw. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" he asks, confused. "I'm about to head home."

She rolls her eyes. "I _know_ that. I meant—lately, something's up with you. I can tell."

Leo glares at her. "Nothing's wrong. If you don't mind…" He swings a leg over his bike, but Annabeth grabs his arm just as he kicks off. With a yell of protest, he zig-zags forward before falling into a heap on the tarmac. Below him, his bike wheel still spins. "What the hell was that for?" he demands, nursing his elbow.

Annabeth folds her arms, sheepish. "Well, I was talking to you!"

"Jesus Christ," he mutters. "You're a psycho."

"No, you are," she shoots back.

"Real mature."

"Hey, I'm not the one who started randomly cycling off in the middle of a conversation."

"Wasn't much of a conversation, if you ask me."

Annabeth stamps her foot—which, okay, isn't her proudest moment. "Would you stop being so prickly and _talk_ to me?" she shouts. Relaxing her balled-up hands, Annabeth lets out a shaky breath. Quieter, she says, "I just want to know what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong."

"Bullshit." She learned that one from Helen.

"Get off my back," he argues. "Why's it any of your business, anyway?"

His words sting a little. "Because I'm your friend. Why else would I be asking?"

At that, Leo seems to deflate. "Everything's fine," he tries again. "I—I don't…" he starts, trailing off. Even his voice sounds unconvinced. He shuts his eyes, shoulders hunching up. "Just don't worry, okay?"

Annabeth softens. She picks up his bike and starts wheeling it along. He stands behind her, a little shocked. "You coming?" she asks. He nods—a stuttering, aborted thing. After a moment, he follows her.

They walk back to Annabeth's house together. Leo stares blankly in front of him, hands deep in the pockets of his grey hoodie. He scuffs his feet on the concrete with every step. "I hate them," he mumbles.

"Who?"

"The older guys. Jeanne never does anything because she can barely control them as it is."

Annabeth watches him carefully. "What do they do?"

"Hide my stuff. Piss in my bed. Little things, but…none of it ever stops. It all just builds up, and up, and up." He shakes his head, resigned. "It's never bothered me before. I dunno why I'm so—so weak, now."

"You're not weak," she insists. "You're not."

He scoffs. "It sure feels like it."

"Don't let them get to you, Leo. They're nothing."

Leo looks at her quietly. "Am I nothing too, then?"

Annabeth feels furious, but not at Leo. "No, that's not what I meant! I _meant_ they're nothing because they bully you." Her mind whirls, grappling for a solution before coming up empty-handed. "God, I just wish you could come and live with me."

He laughs, bitter as anything. "I don't think your parents are gonna want some Mexican foster kid from the streets."

"Helen loves you," she protests. "She'd be happy to take you in, if it weren't for my dad working so much."

"It doesn't matter, Annabeth." He kicks the ground, sending gravel flying. The silence that follows is heavy. Suffocating. "I wanna leave," he says suddenly. "Get away from here."

Annabeth whips around to face him, halting in her tracks. "No. No, you can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you haven't got anywhere to go!"

He shrugs. "That doesn't matter."

"You still can't leave. I'd miss you too much. So would the others."

"Well, I can't stay, either." Above them, clouds have amassed. Rain begins to fall hesitantly, as though the clouds are aware each drop they release is less welcome than the last. Annabeth doesn't know what to say. It's not often that words fail her, but right now every single one has deserted. Leo stares for a moment at the chalk-white road lines beneath his sneakers, then lifts his chin heavenward and closes his eyes. Droplets of rainwater trickle down his brown cheeks, falling away once they reach his jaw. "Tomorrow," he decides. "I'll go tomorrow."

That, right there, is a wake-up call. Annabeth steps forward and touches Leo's shoulder. He opens his eyes, startled. "The end of the week," Annabeth offers. "Stay with me until then. Then you can leave, if that's what you want."

He's already shaking his head. "No, I—"

"Please," she interrupts. "I need you. You're one of my oldest friends. I can't…" Her voice stops working. "I can't lose you. Please, stay."

Leo stares at her, expression indecipherable. "Okay," he relents. "Until the end of the week."

* * *

Helen easily agrees to let Leo stay with them for a few nights. "We're always here for you, sweetheart," she reminds him. "Now, do you need me to drive you to get your stuff? I'll talk to Jeanne, let her know where you'll be."

That night, Leo and Annabeth sit at her open window. One of Helen's fluffy blankets is draped around Leo's shoulders. Her room's on the highest floor; they're looking out across miles and miles of Virginian countryside. Though the rain's stopped, the stars are still concealed by cloud cover. The moon is a pale imitation of itself, faintly visible behind the clouds. "Wouldn't it be nice to have wings, so we could fly right out of the window?" he muses. "Sail over the plains, end up wherever we want."

"Yeah," she agrees. "I thought flying was boring, though? I mean, that's what you told Percy ages ago when he said he'd have flying as his superpower."

He goes quiet. "Now, I see the appeal."

It's three in the morning when Annabeth wakes up. She didn't really expect to sleep through the night, anyway. Heaving a sigh, she throws off her covers and gets out of bed. The floorboards are cold against her bare feet. Leo's sleeping bag is crumpled and empty. Dimly, she wonders where he's gone. She opens the door, squinting through the rude light in the hallway. "Leo?" she calls quietly. He's probably in the toilet or something. Stifling a yawn, Annabeth pads down the stairs to go get some water.

Voices echo from the kitchen. Curious, she peeks through the half-open door. Leo's sitting at the table, and she registers with a jolt that there's tears on his face. Beside him, Helen murmurs words of comfort. Annabeth almost feels guilty for intruding—she doubts Leo wants her to see him like this. In the kitchen, Helen pulls Leo into a hug. He buries his face into her shoulder, shuddering.

After a moment of hesitation, Annabeth silently goes back upstairs.

By the end of the week, Leo's marginally better. His humour returns and his eyes don't look quite so hollow. Even though he has to go back to his group home, he doesn't mind too much. Reluctantly, he agrees to stay for another week. Then another. And another. At the end of each new week, Annabeth has to convince him anew. It becomes a feature of their friendship. She comes up with new reasons not to run away every time: Helen's brownies, the skate park, even the collection of vinyl records in his room he'd have to abandon.

If this is all it takes to keep him here, then she thinks she's okay with it.

* * *

Throughout the rest of February, Virginia's bad weather only worsens. It whips itself into a vicious storm, all blustering wind and lashing rain. Every night, a few more of the terracotta tiles on the roof of Annabeth's estate house are torn away, ending up in their garden. It's Friday, and Annabeth is staring out the condensation-covered glass window of _The Winehouse_ , watching sheets of rain come down from the moody skies above. She's in a booth opposite Leo and Piper, both of whom keep stealing slurps of her milkshake. "Quit it," she complains.

"Ours haven't come yet," says Piper. "It's only fair." She keeps fiddling with the fringe of one of her Cherokee earrings. Just then, Percy appears from around the corner of their booth. He's wearing an apron, and two milkshakes are balanced on his tray. With practised ease, he slides them onto the table.

"How much longer until you finish your shift?" Annabeth asks him.

He grimaces. "An hour. I said I'd cover for Tallulah 'cause she had to look after her baby brother tonight on short notice."

"Can't you finish ten minutes early?"

He shakes his head, tucking the empty tray under his arm. "No, sorry," he answers, turning to walk away. "See you guys in a bit."

Leo takes a sip of his milkshake. "Mm. Can't beat banana."

Piper makes a face, sliding her own chocolate one towards her. "I'm not gonna start an argument because we've already gone over this, but I hope you know you're wrong."

"I am not," Leo says, glaring at her. Piper doesn't say anything, only mouths _yes, you are._ He stands up. "Right, that's it."

"Guys," Annabeth interrupts. "Can we please not get kicked out over milkshakes again?"

"Whatever." Leo sits back down, then perks up as he remembers something. "Hey, didn't you say you were gonna bring your photography portfolio with you to show us?"

Annabeth blanches. "Oh, yeah. Pass my backpack. It's under your feet." She takes it from him and unzips it, pulling her portfolio out of it. "Mr Lee helped me compile it last week. It took hours." Opening it to the first page, she turns it around so the two of them can see. "Most of them are done with an analog camera," she tells them. "It's taken forever to learn how to use it properly."

"So cool," Piper breathes, flipping through the book. She's on a page with photos from last year. After the harvest festival when she and Leo dressed up as Edward Scissorhands and the Corpse Bride, she wanted to try and take more photos like the one Helen took of them. Her favourite is one of Leo sitting cross-legged in a dark tunnel with blood all over his hands. He's grasping a kitchen knife, and his face is bereft of emotion. There's something about the atmosphere of the image and the cruel gleam in Leo's eyes that Mr Lee liked. He called the photo _captivating, powerful._ Annabeth did a whole series of images like it, and every single one is Halloween-esque and completely disconcerting.

"Huh, those ones came out nicely," Leo remarks. "I look like a serial killer."

Piper elbows him. "Maybe 'cause you are one."

He grins. "Yeah, McLean. Watch your back." She just swats him, returning to the portfolio. Annabeth laughs.

She shows them the rest of her portfolio. Their reactions are gratifying—even though she knows they're her friends and probably wouldn't tell her if her work was bad, it's nice to know her photo sequences are fun to look at. It's strange because although she obviously started photography because of Piper, it's kind of evolved into her own thing. Annabeth goes to the club alone now; Piper's too busy focusing on learning guitar and training her voice to come. Music is her obsession, while photography is Annabeth's.

As though Piper was hearing her thoughts, she suddenly says, "Hey, you know I've started learning piano now?"

"For real?" Leo asks. "I thought you were learning guitar."

She rolls her eyes. "You can learn to play more than one instrument, dummy. Once you know how to read music, it's easy to pick up another one." Her eyes spark with excitement. "Miss Amran's been showing us how to arrange songs, too."

Annabeth slurps up the rest of her smoothie, tilting her straw to get the last dredges. "Are you any good at it?"

"Not really," Piper admits. "I've gotta start somewhere, though."

"You know, I used to play ukulele," Leo muses.

"No way," Annabeth laughs. Leo's about to shoot back a reply, but he's interrupted by Percy walking up and leaning against their table. He looks exhausted. "You alright?" she asks.

"Fine," he responds, re-tying his apron behind his back. "Just want to be done." He raises a brow. "Why does Leo look like someone just killed his dog?"

Piper grins. "Probably 'cause Annabeth laughed at him for being a ukulele player."

Percy gapes, turning to him. "You play ukulele?"

"Look at that," Leo says, heaving a sigh. "I'm being bullied."

"You're so dramatic," Annabeth groans.

"Is it dramatic to want friends that aren't mean?"

"Hey! Who are you calling mean?" Piper argues. "You could do a lot worse than us, by the way."

"That's depressing."

" _You're_ depressing," Percy crows. When Piper fist-bumps him, Leo drops his head onto the table.

Feeling some semblance of pity for Leo, Annabeth decides to change the subject. "What time's your dad picking us up for the fitting tomorrow?" she asks Piper.

She beams. "About ten, I think. I'm so excited!"

"What colour dress are you gonna get?"

"No idea."

"I can't believe we're gonna see Percy and Leo in suits," says Annabeth. "It literally hurts my head to try imagining either of them in formal wear."

"Hey," Leo complains. "Just because we're not high society like _your_ posh ass—"

"I'm not posh," Annabeth protests. "Wait…I am, aren't I?"

The other three burst out laughing. Percy elbows Piper, smirking. "Why exactly are _you_ laughing, again? Your dad's a movie star."

Piper glares at him. "Guessing you'd rather not come to the premiere, then."

He scoffs. "You already gave us the tickets."

Piper's about to bite back a reply, but she's interrupted by a tall, tawny-haired waitress who leans over the bar surface with an irritated look on her face. "Jackson! Stop messing around with your friends and take some goddamn orders. There's customers waiting."

Percy grimaces. "Just a sec, Marianne!" He turns to Piper. "I'll cycle around to yours before your dad drives to pick up Annabeth and Leo, yeah?"

"Sounds good."

"Bye, guys." He gives Annabeth a soft smile, waving as he steps back. A warm blush definitely doesn't rush to the heights of Annabeth's cheeks, and her gaze definitely doesn't linger on Percy as he hurries away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leo obviously runs away from home several times in the books, and the idea of annabeth having to convince him not to in this AU is so sweet but sad. let me know what you thought! the next chapter will be up on sunday as usual :)


	9. almost like purgatory

The next morning, Percy cycles over to Piper's house and slides into the backseat of Tristan McLean's car. It's a thing of beauty—all sleek, shimmering surfaces and dark leather seats that feel smoother than glass beneath Percy's hands.

Piper leans around from the shotgun seat, grinning. "You alright?"

He manages to mirror her smile, trying to push down the sickly, unexplainable guilt that rises in his stomach like bile. He feels like a pretender. "Yeah, fine."

Tristan's assistant, Lacy, places a hand on the wheel. She glances up into the rear view mirror, raising a brow. "Seatbelt, please."

Once they've picked up the others, they settle in for a long drive. The boutique Tristan's booked them in at is a few towns over, so it'll take about forty-five minutes to get there. Annabeth and Leo spend almost the entire drive fighting over the radio, which almost ends with a casualty when Annabeth lunges forward to change the station and narrowly avoids socking Leo in the eye, hitting his jaw instead. He groans, clutching it. "Wow, Annie. That was one hell of a punch."

Annabeth grins, entirely unapologetic. "Thank you."

Percy, meanwhile, spends most of the journey obliterating Piper at I-Spy. As they pull up outside the boutique, Piper rattles off, "Shoes. Socks. Uh, skin."

"Wanna give up?" Percy teases.

"Ugh, fine. This game is beneath me anyway."

"Shoelaces."

Piper curses. "Mother—"

Lacy clears her throat. "We're here."

The four of them climb out of the car. As they follow Lacy through the boutique's revolving doors, Percy's breath leaves his lungs. Within, rows upon rows of crisp suits and shimmering dresses are hung up. The boutique is decorated in a vintage style—analog clocks and ornate mirrors line the walls, making Percy feel like he's stepped into an old noir movie. Anxiety begins to ripple through him as that feeling of un-belonging once again washes over him. He shares an apprehensive glance with Leo, who looks just as overwhelmed. Leo mouths _w_ _hat the hell?_ at him. Percy relinquishes a grin. Somehow, it calms his nerves to know he's not the only one who feels like this.

A man appears from behind a rack. His hair is dyed a shocking cobalt blue and half-shaved, which couldn't have been more out of place in the setting if he'd tried. Flashing them a winning smile, he rolls up his white sleeves. The name-tag tidily sewn onto his shirt reads _Matt_. "Hi, there," he says, accent crisply British. "What can I do for you?"

Lacy gives him a smile. "We're booked in under the name McLean."

"Lovely." He turns, ushering them into the boutique. "Follow me, everyone."

Matt leads Percy and Leo through a door to the gentleman's fitting rooms, handing the girls off to a different assistant. They follow Matt into a waiting room, wide-eyed. "Sit here, please," he tells them, gesturing to a velvet chaise. "I'll be just a moment." He disappears off, leaving Percy and Leo to their own devices.

"Do you know what kind of suit you're gonna ask for?" Leo asks, collapsing on the chaise without hesitation.

Shaking his head, Percy sits down slightly more delicately. "I don't know," he answers. "I guess I'll just trust the guy's opinion." He adds, "I mean, he _is_ a tailor."

"I think I want a blue suit," Leo muses. Then, excitedly, "Actually, maybe a red one?"

Percy can only nod. He looks around the room, gaze catching on the over-filled haberdashery on the other side. "Do you think—" he starts, but cuts himself off as Matt walks back in.

"Right, who'd like to go first?" he asks.

Leo glances at Percy. Percy shrugs with indifference. "Don't mind."

"I'll go, then," Leo decides. He stands up and follows Matt through a dark, shining curtain that hangs over a doorway with the sign _Main Fitting Room_. Suddenly alone with his thoughts, Percy heaves a sigh. Absently, he wishes Annabeth was here—just so he'd have someone to talk to.

About half an hour lapses. Percy's beginning to consider taking a nap on the chaise, but thankfully he doesn't have to as Leo and Matt reappear a few moments later.

Leo's grinning, looking victorious. "That was so cool," he tells Percy. "I felt like some sort of Victorian noble."

Matt smiles. "Well, I'm glad we found a suit for you. Percy, you ready?"

A little dumbfounded at being addressed by name, Percy only manages a shaky upward jerk of his head. Steeling himself, he gets up. "Yeah."

"So, have you thought about what style you might be interested in?" Matt asks as he sorts through a box of tape measures.

"Not really," Percy admits. "I've got no idea what looks good."

"Well, _I've_ got some ideas," Matt interjects, smiling warmly. "A structured silhouette rather than a fitted one. Single-breasted, certainly. And how do you feel about ties…?"

Matt curates a few suits for Percy to try on, building on Percy's somewhat vague comments to find the styles Percy likes. It takes a while, but soon enough Percy is standing in front of the floor-length, ornate mirror wearing a structured, jet-black suit with a matching black shirt. It clings to him, complimenting everything from the planes of his shoulders to the way he holds himself. Only the sleeves are a little long, but Matt tells Percy that he'll fix that in alterations. Around his neck, Matt fastens a dark, emerald green tie. Its material half-shimmers in the dim light. He grins. "What do you think?"

Percy's throat is dry. The reflection in the mirror lifts their arms to straighten their lapels, then brushes a fingertip against their tie with some kind of reverence. He doesn't know who they are, but they're someone he wants to be. They're powerful, high-status, everything Percy knows he's not. Slowly, he breathes out. He doesn't mean the exhalation to be an admission, but it is. "I like it," he says, slowly, like this new universe will melt away if he's not careful. "I look…"

"Magnificent," Matt finishes. "This is the one, I think. Yeah?"

Percy nods. "Yeah."

Once he's changed back into his usual clothes, Matt lets him know that the suit will be ready for collection in a week. "Suits can feel amazing. Incredible, even," he tells Percy. "But remember that the suit is made for _you._ You're not the one that's made for the suit." He pauses, then smiles. "So there's no need to look at your reflection like you're scared of it."

* * *

Two weeks later, the day of _The Shallows_ premiere dawns. After a long flight across the country and two taxi rides, they're only two blocks away from the ArcLight—the theatre wherein _The Shallows_ is premiering. From this distance, Percy can already hear the roar of paparazzi. He pulls the sleeves of his suit over his knuckles, trying to quell the nerves threatening to take hold of his breathing.

Leo prods Percy. "Alright?" he asks. He's bouncing up and down in the seat beside Percy, the excitement in the air making him even more fidgety than usual. In the crimson suit he and Matt chose, Leo looks somehow nothing and everything like himself.

Percy nods, exhaling. "Yeah. I'll be fine when we're there."

"Of course you will," Piper tells him with a smile, glancing back from the shotgun seat. She's wearing a shimmering, gold slip-dress with a cowl neck. She looks comfortable and stunning, every inch a movie star's daughter. Percy sees now that she's made for this life.

Tristan meets Percy's eyes in the rearview mirror, mouth tugging into a smile. "Just smile and keep your back straight," he advises Percy. "Nothing can hurt you out there. You're invincible." Leo laughs, but Percy knows Tristan isn't kidding.

Beside him, Annabeth gives Percy a gentle nudge. "Stop worrying so much," she says. "It's gonna be fun." With her bangs framing her face in styled ringlets and clad in a silky, lilac dress, she's breathtaking.

Percy laughs, tearing his gaze away from her freckled shoulders. "I know it'll be fun. Sorry," he mumbles, "I didn't mean to bring the mood down."

Annabeth rolls her eyes. "Don't apologise." Suddenly, she sits upright in her seat and bursts into an excited grin. "Look, there's the theatre!" Ahead, a crowd is gathered outside the ArcLight. The entire affair is a light show of dazzling camera flashes as the paparazzi all clamour for the perfect shot. Percy realises his hands are shaking. He closes his eyes for a moment, repeating Tristan's words silently to himself again and again and again. _Nothing can hurt you. Nothing can hurt you. Nothing can hurt you._

As Tristan parks at the entrance to the red carpet, security form a ring around their car. The car doors are opened for them by the staff, and Percy mumbles a word of thanks as he steps out. The crowd screams as Tristan sets off down the carpet, shoulders square and smile winning. As he raises a hand in greeting, some form of hysteria ripples over his audience.

Piper and Leo have set off, already deep in conversation with one of the staff. Percy still hasn't moved. Smoothing out his lapels with trembling hands, Percy tries to remember the reflection he saw in the mirror. The boy who was powerful. The boy who was invulnerable.

"Percy, are you okay?" Annabeth asks from beside him. The red carpet stretches out before them like a river of velvet, beckoning them forward.

"I think so," Percy breathes.

"Good," she says with a smile. "You ready, then?" She offers him her arm.

After a moment of hesitation, he slips his own through it. "Yeah." Using Annabeth's warmth and steadiness as an anchor, he lifts his chin and summons a smile. With that, they begin to walk.

 _The Shallows_ is incredible. It's a beautiful mess of violence and blood and romance; Percy's heart rate soars as he watches it, eyes glued to the silver screen. Percy's enchanted by the slow, gut-wrenching descent into madness that Tristan McLean's character endures and by the end of the movie, Percy feels like he's been re-forged in a crucible. The whole audience rises to their feet for a thundering standing ovation and Percy claps louder than any of them. He didn't know it was possible to be so affected by something that's nothing but a well-edited work of fiction.

"That was insane," Leo tells Percy as they clap.

He nods, breathless and smiling, smiling, smiling.

Afterwards, the four of them pile back into the car, still swept up on a wave of elation. "Piper, thank you so much," Annabeth bursts out, throwing her arms around Piper. "That was the most amazing gift ever. Seriously."

Piper rolls her eyes, but she hugs Annabeth back. "It wouldn't have been any fun without you guys," she admits.

"That was probably one of the best nights of my life," Percy sighs, collapsing back on his seat.

Leo shakes his head in stunned disbelief. "Craziest movie I've ever seen."

Tristan's assistant, Lacy, glances back from the driver's seat with a warm smile. She'd be the one supervising them until they got back as Tristan's staying in Hollywood for various cast parties over the next couple of days. "Well, I'm glad you kids had a good time. We've got a long drive to the airport ahead of us, though. Seatbelts on, please."

For a while, they keep loudly laughing and discussing the movie as they drive through the darkness. Soon enough, though, their exhilaration fades away into blissful contentment. Percy's the last one to be left awake. He stares out at the highway's soft, floating lights as the first few dredges of rain begin to fall and trickle down the car window. Beside him, Annabeth's inaudible breathing keeps making a strand of blonde hair flutter up and down, caught by each soft exhalation.

It's not long before sleep seizes him, too.

* * *

Every year, Percy's school sends their students on a history trip to a country relevant to their studies. This year, it's Athens. Talk of it is rife in their air as everyone in his year slowly becomes infected by the hysterical sort of excitement that comes with the impending adventure of leaving your home for a week to go to a different continent.

Even Piper, Annabeth and Leo are swept up in the haze of it; all they can talk about is what they're going to pack, who they want to be in a dorm with, what music they need to download for the long-haul flight, etc. It's all very tiring—because Percy's not going.

At least, he doesn't think it's possible. There's no way in hell Gabe would sign the permission forms and Percy could never fund the $900 trip by himself, especially now that Gabe's found his savings jar. Listening to his friends talk about it is the most painful thing in the world. He thought that maybe Leo wouldn't go, at least, but Jeanne's managed to pool some money together for him.

It's all completely shit. Percy wants to go so badly that sometimes his chest aches with it. With a last push of determination, he resolves to ask his tutor the next day before class starts. As one of the staff listed to supervise the trip, he hopes she'll have some answers.

He approaches Mrs Abdullah's desk the next morning and waits by it, trying not to fidget. She glances up from her computer. "Ah, Percy! How can I help you?"

Bunching his knuckles in the sleeves of his sweatshirt, he hesitates. "Uh, hi. It's about the Athens trip?"

She nods politely. "Yes. What about it?"

His eyes flicker to the window, then flit back to her scrutinising gaze. "Well, I really want to go," he mumbles. "But it's too expensive. I don't know what to do."

At that, Mrs Abdullah's expression softens. "I see. Well, I can definitely do a little digging for you." She pauses. "You're a bursary student, right?"

Percy nods. "Yeah."

Mrs Abdullah hums. "Then you'll be eligible for the school to pay a significant portion of the price. The total should only come to about a hundred dollars."

 _A_ _hundred dollars._ It's better than Percy could've anticipated. Money might be tight for a while, but he knows it'll be worth it. "Thanks, ma'am," he grins.

She smiles. "No problem, Percy. Now, go sit down—the bell's about to go."

Over the next week, Percy waits for the best time to ask Gabe about the trip. If he's in a bitter mood, the question would receive a harsh _No_ at best and a physical reply at worst. He waits until Friday night, when Gabe returns home in good spirits after an evening of drinking with his work friends. Percy tells him that the school are paying for all of it and that he won't have to lift a finger. Gabe's reaction is a relief to Percy; he seems to enjoy the idea of not having to deal with his stepson for a few days and signs the form gladly.

Percy clutches it with white knuckles once it's handed back to him, stupidly terrified that it'll be snatched away again.

* * *

It's the start of April and the Athens trip has finally, impossibly, arrived. Everyone that's going on the trip is waiting outside boarding in Norfolk International Airport. An air of excitement, of anticipation ripples amongst them all. Their plane's been delayed by a few hours but it does nothing to dampen their mood; the sheer exhilaration of the wait is too intoxicating.

"How long do you reckon it'll be now?" Leo asks Percy, a slightly unhinged grin on his face. Worryingly, he's holding a fourth cup of coffee—and caffeine paired with his hyperactivity is always a devastating combination.

Percy glances up at the departure board hanging above them. All the bright orange text reveals is that their flight is delayed. He shrugs. "Not sure. Mrs Abdullah said it'd probably be at least an hour."

Leo nods, taking another gulp of his coffee. He makes a face. "God, I hate coffee."

"Want me to cut you off if you go for another one?"

"Yes. Definitely."

Leo casts his gaze across the lobby. "I wonder who we'll be in a dorm with." They'll both be in a dorm together as they put each other's names down when asked to pick a friend, but whoever they're placed with will be random.

Without warning, someone behind him lays a hand on Percy's shoulder. He flinches away with his entire body as fear sizzles through his nerve endings.

"Hey, it's just me!"

He spins. When his eyes lock on Annabeth's concerned face, he relaxes. "Sorry. You startled me, is all."

She half-smiles, and suddenly everything is alright with the world. "Here, I brought you a croissant. The staff are handing them out." She offers him the croissant. It's wrapped in a navy-blue napkin.

Grateful, Percy takes it. "Thanks. Oh, where's Pipes?"

"She went to the restroom." Noticing the coffee in Leo's hand, Annabeth raises a brow. He's started bouncing on the balls of his feet and humming along to a song playing in his earphones, which is only slightly distracting. "Why'd you let him buy another coffee?" she sighs.

"What? He's not _my_ responsibility."

"Yeah, he is," she rebukes.

Leo takes out an earphone. "What?"

Percy and Annabeth share a glance, then burst into laughter. "Nothing. Don't worry," Annabeth reassures him. "What seat number do you guys have, by the way? I've got 36A."

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his crumpled ticket. "Um…35A."

Her face lights up. In excitement, she throws her arms around him. "You're in the seat behind me!"

He smiles. "You'll have to give me some of your Pringles, then."

"Oh, I definitely will. Helen packed me way too much food for one flight."

"To be fair, it is thirteen hours," Leo says. "Can I have some Pringles, too?"

She folds her arms. "What seat are you in?"

"21B."

She grins. "Sorry, that's too far! It's not safe to stand up during a flight."

"Screw you," Leo mutters.

An hour and a half later, their plane is ready for boarding. Mrs Abdullah and the rest of the staff guide their whole year onto the plane. When Percy collapses into his seat, he lets out a slow, steady breath. He has the window seat, which seems like more of a curse than a blessing—being able to look out them will probably only make him more panicked. He hates flying.

The plane starts moving along the runway, causing the chatter of Percy's classmates around him to become even more frenzied. Percy stares forward and focuses on trying to steady his breathing.

"We're gonna die, aren't we?" mumbles Rose, the girl who's sitting beside him. She seems even more terrified than Percy is.

"Probably," he answers.

"What do you think the chances are of surviving if we crash?"

He swallows. "Pretty low, I think."

"God, you two are such wimps," crows Karim, who's sitting on the other side of Rose. "You do realise the chance of a plane crashing is only one in five million?"

Rose narrows her eyes at him. "Wow, thanks." Her voice drips with sarcasm. "I feel so much safer."

Being that one in five million sounds exactly like Percy's luck, if he's honest. Furtively, he risks a glance out the window. The plane's speeding up, but they're not airborne yet. "Annabeth?" he calls. When she doesn't answer, he lightly kicks the back of her seat.

A second later, Annabeth's freckled face peeks around the side of her seat. Instantly, Percy feels a little calmer. "You okay?" she asks. Her words are muffled around the strawberry lace in her mouth.

Percy nods—a messy jerk of his head. "I'm scared."

Annabeth gives him a warm smile. "I can't help with that, but do you want a strawberry lace?"

"Yeah, okay," he answers. When she holds out the packet, he murmurs a word of thanks and reaches out to take one. Before he can, however, the plane shudders and lifts off from the ground. There's general commotion from the rest of his classmates as they soar upwards, but Percy can't think or move or breathe. Utter terror seizes him and even though it's been almost a decade since Percy last prayed, he thinks for a delirious moment that his life is in God's hands now.

"Percy?" prods a familiar voice. He returns to his terrifying reality and locks onto Annabeth's quietly constant grey eyes. She offers him the strawberry laces again, and he realises he forgot to take one.

He laughs, a strange sound. "Thanks," he says, accepting one. As they ascend up and up into the clouds, the sweet taste of it on his tongue is the only thing he knows.

The rest of the flight feels almost like purgatory. Annabeth talks loudly and obnoxiously to Percy in an effort to distract him, and when the lights dim to allow the plane's passengers to sleep, she talks quietly and softly to him. The pit of anxiety in his stomach slowly begins to lessen. He's not sure what he'd do if not for Annabeth.

The two of them are awake long after most people have gone to sleep. For Annabeth, this is due to her insomnia; for Percy, it's due to his fear. To combat these things, Annabeth passes back one of her earphones to Percy. "Do you want to listen to music with me?" she whispers.

He nods. The earphone lead barely stretches back to Percy, but he doesn't mind. He casts his gaze out the window. Right now, they're sailing high above the ocean. If Percy looks down, he can watch the black, metallic waves of the Atlantic at night shifting and roiling far below the plane. Silver flecks ripple on its surface, reflecting the unquiet stars. It's terrifying to think about how far away he is from Virginia. After a lifetime of never leaving his town, he's somehow found himself thousands of miles away from it.

With one of Annabeth's strange, melodic songs playing in his ear, he closes his eyes and wishes for a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and they're off to Athens! percabeth listening to music together is just :,) let me know what you thought!
> 
> speaking of music, I made a playlist for this fic last night! it's very all over the place and I hope you guys like it. [give it a listen!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1TbiwaeLDwS7u7sHtBfevu)


	10. everything everything everything

Once they reach the hotel, Percy and Leo are quickly assigned a room with two other guys from their year—Kiran and Nathan. They're all tired, but there's still time to argue over who gets which bed. There's two singles and a bunk bed available. As soon as they step inside the dorm, Leo throws his bag onto the top bunk.

Nathan, a tall kid with hair curlier than Leo's, lets out an irritated huff. "Who said you get the top bunk?"

"I touched it first," Leo explains, like it's obvious. "You and Kiran can have the singles."

"But—" Nathan cuts off, annoyed. "Kiran, are you okay with this guy calling the shots?"

Kiran shrugs and zips open his bag with a yawn. "I'm fine with whatever. How the hell do you guys have the energy to argue? It's two in the morning."

"Agreed," Percy mutters, kicking off his shoes. "I just wanna sleep."

While the others get ready for bed, Percy stops for a moment to glance out their dorm's window. They've got a good view. The hotel isn't high up as Athens is a fairly low-rise city, but the houses in this area are beautiful—with terracotta roofs and sandstone walls, the city looks like a scene from an impressionist painting.

Percy carefully leans out the window. There's a narrow fire escape connecting every window on this floor. The window of the dorm adjacent to theirs is ajar. Knowing Piper and Annabeth's group are staying within it, he softly calls, "Hey!"

After a moment, Piper's dark head pops out. She's wearing a dusky blue pyjama shirt. With a grin, she asks, "Percy? Why aren't you guys asleep?"

"Why aren't you?" he challenges.

She rolls her eyes. The whites of her eyes are stark in the darkness, like pools of milk. "We're just about to turn the lights out, dummy."

"Oh, right. I'll let you get some sleep."

"Night." As she disappears back into her dorm, their window closes.

After a few minutes of talking quietly to Leo through the dark from his bottom bunk, he rolls onto his side. He lets out a sigh of contentment. This pillow is a thousand times softer than his flat, uncomfortable one back home. Pulling the duvet up to his shoulders, he closes his eyes.

* * *

In the morning, Percy is shaken awake by Leo. His hair is damp and he's saying something incoherent. Percy squints up. "Huh? What?" he asks, mouth dry from sleep.

"Shower's free. Be quick—breakfast's now."

When Percy stumbles out of the shower, the other guys have already left. He sighs, pulling on some clean clothes before stepping into his shoes. Even though both his jobs require him to wake up early most days, he's still never got used to it.

He only gets lost once on the way down to the hotel's mess hall. Pushing open the heavy, mahogany doors, he heads over to the breakfast bar and pours himself some orange juice and a bowl of Cheerios before turning around and scanning the hall for his friends. His eyes latch onto Piper waving at him from the table beside the window. Leo and Annabeth are there too. "Percy!" she yells. "Over here!"

He walks over with his tray, sliding into the vacant seat beside Leo. "Hey, guys."

"You're lucky I woke you up," Leo tells him. "Breakfast started ages ago."

Rolls his eyes, Percy retorts, "I got here, didn't I?" He shoves a spoonful of Cheerios into his mouth.

"I can't believe we're finally here," Annabeth beams over her mug of coffee. Black coffee, as well. Percy wonders who she thinks she's kidding. "It's gonna be amazing. There's so much to learn here!"

Piper snorts. "Learn? God, you're one of those people who read every single one of those little plaques in museums, aren't you?"

Annabeth blinks. "Doesn't everyone?"

Percy snorts into his orange juice while the others burst out laughing. "Sure, Annabeth," he says. "What are we doing today, anyway? Have they already gone over it?"

"Just looking around some crusty old museums," Leo tells him. "It's gonna be boring."

Annabeth glares at him. "Why did you come, then?"

"Touchy, touchy." He rolls his eyes. "Mostly for the buffet."

Percy hums. "Maybe the museums will be boring, but I'm kinda excited for the ruins. I mean, they're hundreds of years old."

Annabeth grins at him. "Try thousands."

When breakfast is over, they're told to head back to their dorms to pack their rucksacks for the day. Percy fills up his water bottle and zips his wallet securely into the front pocket. Leo slings his rucksack over one arm as he peers out the window into the day. "Do you think I need to bring an umbrella?"

Kiran laughs. "We're in Greece, man. I swear it, like, never rains here."

Everyone on the trip gathers at the teachers' rendezvous point outside the hotel. Now that it's light outside, the beauty of Athens is far more blatant. Sandstone buildings with red-terracotta roof tiles surround the hotel, and it's so hot that the air quality is almost hazy. It's such a far cry from their small, suffocating Virginian town that Percy feels freed.

They take the bus to their first destination: the National Archaeology Museum. Percy sits at the back of the bus with Annabeth. The two of them chat while staring, wide-eyed, out the window as the alien city passes by outside. When they arrive at the museum, Mr Jameson—one of the trip's supervisors—instructs them to get into pairs to complete a worksheet as they tour the museum. A little nervous, Percy asks Annabeth if they can be in a pair.

"Don't be an idiot," she tells him. "Of course you're coming with me."

He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. "Even though I probably won't understand any of the questions?"

Annabeth rolls her eyes, looping her arm through his. "Do you really think I'd let anyone else write on _my_ sheet?"

He laughs. "Fair enough."

Externally, the museum is awe-inspiring. It looks almost like a temple itself, a Neoclassical work of art. Annabeth pulls out her analog camera to take some photos of the incredible architecture. "If this is what their _museums_ look like, I can't wait to see the real temples," Annabeth murmurs. Percy can only nod in agreement.

They spend several hours inside the museum, exploring all the intriguing exhibits. Percy's favourite is the Sculpture Collection. Though many of the statues have broken-off arms and legs, Percy still expects them to burst out of their smooth, rippling marble skin at any moment. Annabeth alternates between scribbling answers down on their worksheet and snapping photos of the statues from changing angles. "I bet I can put some of these in my portfolio," she says, raising her camera to her eye and snapping another photo.

It's midday by the time they finally finish touring the museum, and Mr Jameson gathers in their worksheets. "Well done, everyone," he tells them with a smile. "You're all probably tired from being on your feet all morning. We'll spend forty-five minutes relaxing and eating lunch before heading to our next stop."

Percy, Annabeth, Piper and Leo all take their lunches onto the lawn outside the museum, making sure to find a spot in the shade; the sun is beating down with ferocity. "God, my feet ache," Piper complains, flopping onto her back beside Percy.

"I know," Annabeth responds. Having taken a bite out of her sandwich, she kicks off her shoes to give her sore feet a brief respite. After a moment of deliberation, Percy takes off his own as well.

"Did you get any good photos?" Piper asks.

Annabeth brightens. "Yeah, I think so. Obviously, it's hard to know for sure until I've developed the film."

"Hey, has anyone got any water?" Leo asks, throwing an arm over his face to block out the sun. "My head's killing."

Percy sits up to pass him his bottle, then lays back down. "So, did you guys finish the questions?" he asks.

Piper makes a face. "Nah. Didn't really pay enough attention this term and we couldn't be arsed to read all the plaques. Why, did you two finish?"

" _Annabeth_ did," Percy replied. "I just looked around at stuff."

"Yeah, you were pretty useless," she says, grinning. Percy rolls his eyes, but his stomach is warm with contentment. Staring up into the cloudless Athenian sky, he allows himself to relax.

* * *

After that, they poke around another museum for a few hours. It's not as interesting as the first, but Percy still likes it. As evening descends upon Athens, a tour guide walks them around the city. "These are the Pláka and Anafiotika Neighborhoods," he tells them, voice slightly halting as his accent resists him. "Everyone who lives in Athens will pass through here at some point—the markets are famous throughout the city."

The marketplace is bustling, warm-hued and beautiful. Life emanates from it, a quality that Virginia never had. The scents of rich spices and frying oil prickle Percy's nose, and it's difficult not to salivate. It's late, so none of them have eaten in a while.

"Alright, listen up," Mr Jameson calls loudly, trying to get everyone's attention. "We've got an hour before we need to be back at the hotel, so we've decided to let you all explore for a while." At that, everyone perks up. He raises a stern eyebrow. "You _must_ stay in this square. No wandering off, understand?"

The four of them walk around the stalls for a while, looking around. "I kinda wanna get a souvenir," Piper muses. "Oh, I love those necklaces!" She runs off, dragging an unwilling Leo with her.

Percy takes Annabeth's arm, leading her forward. "Come on. Something smells good over there!" They arrive in front of a pastry stall. Annabeth's face lights up as she admires them. "Can we buy two of those?" she asks the vendor, pointing at the cinnamon swirls. With their pastries in hand, they wander around the stalls together. Everywhere Percy looks, there's something new to look at.

They sit down on a mossy brick wall to finish their pastries. Percy hums, closing his eyes as he eats the last of his. "I think I've got a new favourite food," he tells Annabeth.

"Definitely," she agrees. A harpist across the street starts playing, nimble fingers plucking the strings of their harp. The notes of the strange, Greek song they're playing reverberate across the square, fluctuant and ever-changing. Annabeth sighs. "I love it here. It feels nothing like a school trip."

Percy nods wordlessly. "Kinda wish I could live here."

"Maybe," says Annabeth. "I don't know. I think I'd miss Virginia too much."

With a scoff, Percy kicks at the gravel. "I wouldn't. Not a chance in hell."

Annabeth looks at him, then. "Would you miss me?"

"Obviously," he answers. "That's not even a question."

She smiles. "I'd miss you, too. Never leave me, yeah?"

"I won't."

Annabeth shakes her head. "I'm not sure if I believe that," she says, eyes vacant as she watches the harpist. They've switched to a song that's faintly familiar to Percy, but he can't quite place it.

"Well, you should." She doesn't answer. Percy's not sure what else to say. After a moment of listening to the harpist, he asks, "Hey, what song are they playing?"

As though breaking out of a trance, Annabeth grins. "You're joking," she says. When Percy's still blank, she nudges him. "It's 'My Heart Will Go On.'" She pauses, then, "From Titanic."

"Titanic?"

Annabeth gapes. "Wow, you're more uncultured than I thought."

Without his solicitation, an embarrassed flush rises to his cheeks. "Oh, shut up." Without warning, he playfully shoulders Annabeth.

She yelps, almost falling off the wall. "Hey," she complains. "That was uncalled for."

"Was it, though?"

Pushing him back, she stifles a laugh. "Well, you still need to watch Titanic."

He smiles. "Okay. I will."

"We can watch it together."

"Yeah, sure."

She folds her arms. "You could at least _try_ and sound interested in the idea."

"God, I can't _wait_ to watch a movie about a musty ship that sank, like, a century ago."

She smacks him with her sleeve. "Hey, it's about more than that! It's a classic. Trust me."

* * *

The next few days pass in a similar fashion. Percy feels like he's in a fever dream; here, everything is rose-tinted and unspeakably easy. Not having to think about work or school—or his stepfather—is a fucking blessing.

On the last day, they visit the Acropolis. It's what Annabeth's been excited about all week and she won't stop bouncing on the bus drive. "I bet it's beautiful," she tells Piper. "I'm gonna take so many photos."

Piper grins. "You should take one of the four of us."

Annabeth wrinkles her nose, but soon relents. "Fine. There's no way it'll go in my portfolio, though."

Leo rolls his eyes. "You've got more than enough for your damn portfolio. Relax. Take a few photos of Piper's nostril, or something." Piper kicks him, but he just laughs.

Percy hadn't been expecting much, but as he steps off the bus and looks up at the Acropolis, his jaw drops. It had been one thing seeing it from afar, but up close its buildings tower so high above them that Percy almost understands why the Greeks so easily worshipped their gods.

Beside him, Annabeth looks elated. "Wanna know why it's called the Acropolis?"

"Why?" he asks, humouring her.

"It means _high city_ in Greek," she answers, raising her camera to her eye.

"Huh. That's actually pretty cool."

The steps up to the rocky outcrop that the Acropolis is built on are worryingly precarious, and Percy tries desperately not to look down. It's hard to control his breathing as he completes one careful step after another.

The Parthenon is the centrepiece of the ancient city. It seems impossible that it's held up only by crumbling stone pillars, but it remains upright. Percy's enchanted by it. He zones out from the tour guide's loud voice in favour of gazing at the stone inscriptions that have remained intact for millennia.

Every few moments are punctuated by the _click_ of Annabeth taking another photo. His eyes flick over to her concentrated, drawn expression as she fiddles with the settings on her analog camera. Her brows are all bunched up in the middle and she won't stop chewing on her lip. She glances up and Percy stiffens, hoping she didn't catch him looking. "Hey, can you hold this for a sec? I've gotta get something out my bag," she says, holding out her camera. "Oh, and don't you _dare_ drop it."

He takes it. "I'll be careful."

After the Parthenon, they visit the Erechteion. It's less impressive, but Percy finds himself drawn in by its history. "It's dedicated to not one, but _two_ gods," the tour guide explains. "Although Athena was the host of this city, Poseidon also offered. This temple was built in his honour, too."

Percy finds himself listening to the tour guide for another few minutes, even after most of the crowd has dissolved. He's shaken out of his stupor by Piper's hand on his shoulder. "Come on," she's saying. "The others are looking out over the edge."

Leo and Annabeth are standing at the end of the viewpoint, leaning over the railing. As they approach, Percy's jaw drops slightly—the entirety of Athens sprawls out before them, a chaotic thing of beauty. He stands next to Annabeth, leaning against the railing as he looks out. "Wow."

Annabeth, of course, has her camera raised to her face. "Everything's so far away that I can't tell if the film will come out blurry," she mutters.

Percy gently pushes her camera down. "Stop worrying about getting good photos, and just _look_."

Annabeth shoots him a look of annoyance, but does as he suggests. The sun glances like a blade over her face, lighting up her pale lashes and paler grey eyes. The view seems to arrest her, for a second. She opens her mouth, then closes it again. "It's prettier without the lense in front of it," she admits.

"What did I tell you?"

"Ha, ha." She traces the button on her camera absently, eyes trained on the horizon. "I wonder how high up we are?"

"Four hundred and ninety feet above sea level," Percy recites. At Annabeth's look of confusion, he laughs. "The tour guide said it. Don't worry, I haven't been reading text books in my spare time."

"Maybe you should consider it." Still staring out across the city, she murmurs, "This would be a good take-off point."

"For what?"

"For flying."

Her words take him off guard; it isn't like Annabeth to be so wishful. Percy can't help but imagine it: how it would feel to stretch his wings out, to leap off the edge of this ancient outcrop and sail up, up, _up_ towards the blustering sun. "Yeah," he agrees. "We can't fly, though."

She turns to look at him, a smile tugging at her mouth. "I _know_ that."

He pretends to think. "Wanna test it out?"

Rolling her eyes, she punches him lightly. "Shut up."

They both laugh, and Percy thinks for a quiet, hopeful moment that he'd stay here forever if he could. He closes his eyes, the warm railing beneath his forearms becoming his focal point. When he opens his eyes again, everything is still blessedly the same. "Hey, Annabeth?" he asks suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"I don't wanna go back to Virginia."

She smiles at him. "Me neither."

"No, I mean—we should take off into the city. Run away." At that, Annabeth laughs. It's probably for the best that she doesn't realise it wasn't a joke.

* * *

When they get back to the hotel that evening, Leo ropes them all into a plan. "There's some maintenance stairs on our floor. I checked them out this morning, and guess what?"

"What?" Annabeth and Piper chorus. Percy wishes Leo would get to the point.

Leo slowly smiles. "The stairs lead to the roof."

"So what?" Annabeth asks.

Piper and Percy lock eyes and at the same time, they break into a grin. "Sick."

"What?" Annabeth asks, irritated. "I don't get what you guys are saying."

Leo sighs. "I'm _saying_ that we should go up there. It's our last night here, so we need to make it special."

"Oh," she breathes. "But…wait. What if we get caught?"

"We won't," Piper reassures her. "The teachers will be asleep. There's no way they'll notice."

Percy nudges her, giving her a conspiratorial smile. "C'mon. It wouldn't be any fun without you."

He watches Annabeth's resolve crumble. Just like that, she's in. "Alright," she agrees. "I'll bring snacks."

They wait until thirty minutes past midnight to risk sneaking up. Percy pulls on sweatpants and a warm jumper, knowing it'll be cold out. Kiran and Nathan have snuck off to another dorm, so Percy knows they wouldn't be able to rat him and Leo out even if they wanted to. Across the room, Leo's rifling around in his bag. Percy's curiosity spikes. "What're you looking for?" he asks, lacing his shoes up.

Leo turns around, flashing Percy a sharp grin. "This." With a flourish, he withdraws a bottle of Smirnoff from his suitcase.

Percy blanches. "Is that vodka?"

"Yeah. I got it from that marketplace."

"Honestly, I'm a little concerned they sold it to a thirteen-year-old."

Leo tucks the vodka into his jacket. "Hey, maybe I just don't look thirteen."

Percy hums. "You're right. You look ten."

Leo gasps in mock offence. "You wound me, Jackson. You wound me."

The pair of them sneak up to the roof, stifling laughter as adrenaline rushes through them. Percy has to steel himself to remain calm; the maintenance stairs are dark and cramped. Still, they reach the door to the roof faster than he expects. As Leo pushes open the door, the bitter night air washes over them. Above them, the sky is clear and sprayed with an array of bright stars. "This is so cool," Percy breathes. Leo laughs, elated.

The hotel roof is a twenty-by-twenty metre expanse of stone that tapers away into slanting red tiles. The two of them are alone as the girls haven't come up yet. Percy walks to the edge of the roof, fighting off the familiar dredges of anxiety that arise with being so high up. "This is awesome," Leo decides, standing next to Percy. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he lets out a victorious whoop. The sound echoes across Athens, eventually collapsing into the silence.

"Shh," Percy tells him, grabbing his arm. "We need to be quiet."

Leo waves a hand. "No one's gonna hear us," he reassures Percy. "All the teachers are several floors below us. We can be as loud as we want." With that, he whoops again.

The anxiety drains from Percy. He smiles. Tentatively, he cups his hand around his mouth like Leo did and whoops into the endless night. The sound reverberates a thousand times over, multiplying into itself.

It's not long before Annabeth and Piper join them on the roof. Annabeth's curly hair has been wrestled into a messy low bun, and she looks softer than anything in the starlight. The four of them sit down at the edge of the roof, legs dangling over the terracotta tiles. Piper plays music quietly from her phone as they talk and laugh. At one point, Annabeth pulls a pack of playing cards from a pocket inside her fluffy jumper, and they play a few hands of Cheat.

Percy's awful at it, but Annabeth knows the game inside and out—she cheats almost every round and still never gets caught. With his brain fogged up by the few gulps of Leo's vodka he had, it's hard to think straight. When Annabeth wins for the sixth time, Piper groans and flops backwards. "That's it. I give up." Leo pats her shoulder consolingly.

Annabeth smirks, gathering the cards up. "So soon?"

Percy shoots her a blazing look. "How do you win every time? You're a mastermind."

"You probably should've realised that already," she tells him, putting the cards away.

Percy reaches for Leo's dwindling bottle of vodka and picks it up by its cold glass neck, taking a swig. He's never drank before, but he likes how it so easily detaches him from the present with only his consciousness as an anchor.

When Leo offered it to him earlier, an internal, bloody war was waged in his head. He knew all too well that alcohol never did anything except drum spite into Gabe's veins; it took holding the image of Annabeth's parents messily drunk-dancing on Christmas Eve—without consequence—to force himself to take that first sip. Vodka has never been Gabe's drink of choice, at any rate.

Soon enough, the world becomes a far-off, pleasant blur. The four of them lie down on the concrete in a circle, heads close together. "And that's Orion," Piper tells them, pointing up at a cluster of stars. "You can tell 'cause of those three bright stars in a line—they make up his belt. See?"

"Oh, yeah," Annabeth murmurs.

"Isn't there a bear one?" _Is that Leo talking?_

An empty moment later, Piper answers, "Yeah, there is." Her voice is drowsy, her words slurred. "The Ursa Major."

Percy lifts a hand up to trace the stars. He can't see any shapes, just golden raindrops on a black screen. "I wonder what's up there," he muses.

Leo hums. "Aliens, most likely."

Annabeth scoffs. "Do you realise how unlikely it is that aliens exist? Read up on some biochemistry—the conditions for life are ridiculously improbable. The chance of anywhere else like Earth existing is basically negligible."

"But the universe is infinite," Leo argues. "Doesn't that mean aliens _have_ to exist?"

"No, 'cause it takes, like, a million steps for sentient, complex life to exist. There'll be bacteria, but I doubt there's anything else like us."

Her words make Percy feel no more important, no less like a drifting molecule of water in an ocean. "You might be right," he says quietly. Subconsciously. Then, "Do you guys ever think about the future?"

"God, you're gonna make me have a crisis," Leo mutters.

"Well, _I_ think about the future," says Piper. "I'm gonna be…a solo singer. Or have a band. Or have my own record label."

"I can picture you on stage, dressed in a metallic dress," Annabeth says. "Screaming like crazy into a microphone."

Piper gasps with revelation. "Hey, I could pay you to take my concert photos!"

Annabeth scoffs. "Dream on, McLean. I'd rather work for Vogue."

"I'm just gonna roll with life as it comes," Leo decides. "No plans. No restrictions. Who knows where I'll end up?"

"In a gutter?" Piper suggests. When Leo kicks her in the side, she screeches with laughter. "Calm down! I'm joking. It's not like _I've_ got much of a plan, either."

The two of them keep bantering back and forth, and Percy tunes them out. He turns his head to look at Annabeth. Her eyes are dull and glazed over as she watches the stars, and her mouth is folded in a blissful smile. Before Percy has the chance to quickly look away, she turns her own head and locks eyes with him. "You always do that," she says.

He fights the urge to swallow down his nerves. "Do what?"

She just laughs at that, like an inside joke with herself. Shaking her head, she grins. "I guess it doesn't matter." With that, she stands up and dusts off her clothes. She extends a hand down to Percy. Instinctively, he knows he's supposed to take it.

Annabeth hauls him to his feet, but misjudges the force needed and almost pulls him over—the alcohol in his system has destroyed both of their balance points. Percy laughs, steadying them both before they both topple backwards. "Why are we standing up?"

A shrug. "Felt like it." As the song playing on Piper's phone switches to something by Frank Ocean, the pair of them start swaying in time with the music. Annabeth loosely takes Percy's hand and spins him around, giggling.

"Shouldn't the guy spin the girl?" Percy protests.

"Oh, sorry," she answers, rolling her eyes. "I didn't mean to step on your ego."

"You know that's not what I meant!"

Behind them, Percy registers Piper and Leo standing up. He turns around in time to see Leo stagger, clutching his head. "Christ," he mutters. Piper shrieks with laughter.

Annabeth leans into Percy. "He's such a lightweight."

Percy grins. Tone dripping with sarcasm, he replies, "Nah, of course not." He pokes Annabeth in the side. "You, on the other hand…"

She pushes him, fighting off a smile. "Shut it, Jackson."

He pushes her back without much force. Still, one of her sneakers slip on the damp tarmac and she lands heavily on her back. "Ow," she groans. "I didn't _actually_ push you over."

"Sorry, love," he drawls, leaning into his natural Southern accent. "You're drunker than I thought." He extends a hand in an attempt at being a gentleman, meaning to pull Annabeth to her feet.

With a wicked grin, she seizes his hand and yanks him brutally down onto the concrete next to her. He lands with a thud on his left arm. It twinges. "Hey! You could've hurt me."

"Sorry, love," she mimics. "Guess you must be drunker than I—" Startled, she cuts herself off with a shout when Percy lunges for her. She rolls away, laughing. "Okay, okay! Truce?"

"Fine." Percy stands up with Annabeth, rolling his sore shoulder. Head is spinning with elation, he nudges her. "Annabeth," he says.

"What?"

He smiles, helplessly. "I'm sort of really happy right now."

"'Cause you're drunk," she laughs, linking arms with him in that way she always does. "But for the record…" She trails off, then smiles. "I am, too."

It starts to rain—softly, at first, with an air of reluctance. Percy didn't even notice the clouds pass over. Before they know it, the rain's built up with a new, beautiful impetus and lashes the city around them.

The four of them scream, already soaked through. With the slow arrogance only drunk people can master, they stumble towards the door and fall through it as a singular entity. Annabeth is still holding onto Percy, a lifeline. Her hair's an utter mess, and her cheeks are flushed crimson from the cold.

She's everything, everything, _everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the four of them chilling in athens is now literally all I know or care about lmao. thanks for reading, let me know what you thought :D


	11. a sense of the quotidian

After the Athens trip, Percy clings to the latent feeling of belonging that's arisen from the days he spent there with the others. Being away from home has been a strange but beautiful fever dream, and he knows it never could've lasted. He returns to work, to the early mornings and late nights and gruelling shifts that take up almost every spare second that he's not at school. He makes time for Annabeth, though—he'd hate for her to accuse him of being a stranger again.

Before long, spring melts into summer and Virginia's heat arrives like a tidal wave. The school's AC breaks, and sitting for hours on end in their stuffy classrooms becomes a cruel kind of hell. Percy's sitting in English class, head beginning to ache with the signs of an oncoming migraine. It's got to be over a hundred degrees in Miss Rayner's classroom. He's trying his damnedest to focus on the Macbeth extract they're supposed to be annotating, but it's proving to be impossible. The words float and merge into each other, incomprehensible as a foreign language.

Bored, he lifts his head up and glances across the room to where Annabeth's working, head down in perfect concentration. He wonders how she can form a cohesive thought in this weather, then decides there's no use wondering. Annabeth is a species of her own. He watches as she tucks a nagging curl behind her ear, holding it for a few moments before leaving it. The tips of her freckled ears are flushed, the only indication she's struggling at all in the heat. She spins her pen once, twice around her fingertips.

Percy drags his gaze away, settling it once again on the Shakespeare in front of him. _Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him,_ he reads, then carefully highlights the line in stark neon. She's talking about Duncan, right? The old king. Just as he presses his pen to the paper to add an annotation, the bell goes. Relieved, he sweeps his work into his backpack as Miss Rayner hurriedly reminds everyone of the homework. "It's due next Monday, everyone. Remember, please!"

Annabeth catches up with him as he walks out of the classroom, thumbs slipped under the straps of his backpack. "Hey," she says, bumping her shoulder against his. "How'd you find the extract? We've gotta write an essay on it next week."

He shakes his head, letting out a ragged breath. "All I got from it is that Lady Macbeth's gone insane."

She grins. "That is the gist of the scene, yeah. Don't worry, I'll help you out with it when you come to mine after your shift tonight."

"Thanks," he smiles. "You're singlehandedly saving my grade."

She shrugs. "It's all selfish, really. Just a chance to flaunt my knowledge."

"And the sad thing is you're not even joking," Percy mutters. They walk out of school together, heading into the shade cast by the sycamore tree by the front gates. Leo and Piper are already standing there, arguing animatedly about something. Percy's not concerned; they argue a dozen times a day yet have never fallen out. "Those two have gotta be some sort of scientific fallacy," Percy says to Annabeth. "How do they disagree on _everything_ and still like each other?"

She laughs. "I know—it's insane. You know, Helen called them platonic soulmates one time."

"Pfft. 'Course." As they walk up to Leo and Piper, he calls, "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing much," Leo answers. He narrows his eyes at Piper. "Just that Piper thinks Alladin Sane wasn't Bowie's most iconic alter-ego."

Piper rolls her eyes. "Fine, we'll agree to disagree." She turns to Percy and whispers, "Ziggy Stardust was better, right?"

He grins. Percy only knows, like, three Bowie songs. "Sure, Pipes."

The four of them walk up to Annabeth's estate, dragging their feet. "God, it's so hot," Annabeth complains. "It must be illegal to make us sit in school without any AC."

"If it gets hot enough, it _will_ be illegal," Leo tells them. "Jeanne was having a right go over the phone to the elementary school about it this morning—one of the newbies passed out in class yesterday. Their school gave them the whole week off."

"Really?" Piper asks. "Note to self: Use passing out as an excuse to get out of class."

Rolling her eyes, Annabeth says, "You're rubbish at acting. Remember the school play last year?"

Piper nods sorrowfully. "Yeah, I could never be a triple threat."

As they walk up the path to Annabeth's estate, a fluffy, golden ball leaps out of the front door and barrels towards them. "King, wait—" Percy protests, but is cut off when Annabeth's dog flies into his legs. Percy laughs as he falls back, letting King lick his face. "Who's a good dog? Who's a good dog?"

Annabeth crouches to pet King. He turns and paws at Annabeth, panting. "It's so not fair that he loves you more than me," she complains.

Percy gets up, grinning. "What can I say?"

Leo and Piper take turns cuddling him. "He must be boiling in this heat," Piper points out. "All that fur."

Leo groans. "God. I'd almost forgotten how much I was sweating until you said that."

"Kids!" Helen yells from the door. She's wearing an apron, and her hair is tied up in a ponytail. "Come in and have some lemonade before you catch heatstroke."

Percy kicks off his shoes on the mat and heads into the kitchen before the others. When Helen passes him an ice-cold glass of lemonade, he smiles gratefully. "Thanks, ma'am. Is this homemade?"

Helen ruffles his hair. "Of course, darling!" As Leo and Piper walk in, she hands them their own glasses. "How was school, you two?"

"Awful," Leo tells her. "Mr Parris gave us a Maths test, but I couldn't think straight 'cause the AC's broken."

"I really can't believe they're still making you all go in," she mutters. "Well, you guys can go sit in the shade for a while to drink your lemonade. Oh, and Percy?"

"Yeah?" he says, taking a sip of his drink.

"What time's your shift, darling? I'm taking Bobby to his piano lesson at five so I can drop you round if you like."

"Oh, I don't have one. The machine shop's shut," he says. "Lucy's out of town and she said she might as well give us the day off 'cause of the heat."

"That's one good thing, at least," Helen says with a smile.

The three of them sit down in Annabeth's sprawling garden under some dappling shade. Leo and Piper lean against the trunk of a tree while Percy just lays on the grass. The ground is cool under Percy's skin, which feels like heaven on such a sticky day. A moment later, Annabeth joins them. She's fiddling with a small radio, tuning it to the right station. "What are you putting on?" he asks.

"Just a sec," she mumbles. A second later, she finds the right station and an old pop song that Percy can't quite place comes on. Satisfied, Annabeth sets the radio on the grass and flops down next to Percy. A fine bead of sweat traces the side of her temple. "Why the hell is it so hot?"

"'Cause it's June in Virginia," says Percy. "I don't really mind it, to be honest. I'm just glad we finish school this week."

"Amen," Leo agrees. He's got his cap propped up on his face and his hands behind his head. "I'm gonna skate so much this summer—it's gonna be fucking beautiful."

"Yeah, same," Percy murmurs. "Maybe I'll finally master a 720 gazelle flip."

"I thought you already managed that one?" Piper asks.

"The 360. Not the 720."

"They all blur together after a while," Piper says absently. She picks a blade of grass and tears it into little pieces, white-painted nails flashing in the light.

"Hey, I could always try teaching you a few tricks," Percy offers.

"Nah. I've gotta learn guitar this summer if I ever wanna get anywhere with my music," she muses.

As she speaks, the song on Annabeth's radio changes. " _I remember, I remember when I lost my mind…_ " the singer croons.

"When'd this come out?" Leo asks.

"March," Annabeth replies. "I dunno what to think of it, really."

They all fall silent, listening to the strange song. Percy finds himself swaying his head to the beat, fingers tapping on the moss below him. "This always plays at the machine shop," he says. "I guess Lucy's music taste is kinda questionable."

Annabeth turns her head. "Are you working there most days this summer?" she asks.

"Yeah. Lucy's letting me take some harder jobs now, which is cool. It's a chance to make some more money."

She smiles. "That's good."

Behind them, Leo gets up. He drinks the rest of his lemonade, then sets the glass down next to Piper. "Hey, where are you going?" she asks. "I was using you as a headrest!"

He stretches. "I'm gonna get up onto that branch." With that, he jumps up and grabs it, swinging on leg around it. "Oh, Christ," he curses as he agonisingly hauls himself up. "Ah, there we are."

Piper stifles a laugh. "I thought for sure you'd break a leg."

Leo lays back on the branch, one leg relaxed and hanging off it. "Ye of little faith," he murmurs, putting his cap on his head again.

"You better stay down here," Annabeth threatens Percy. She lays her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes. "Wake me up in like five minutes." Her blonde, curly hair tickles Percy's cheek, but he doesn't mind. His pulse quickens, and he has to bite back a smile as Annabeth closes her eyes.

* * *

As school draws to a close, the heatwave falls resentfully back into normal, less stifling summer warmth. Percy resigns himself to a summer of work, grateful for the chance to forget about school for a while. Thankfully, Gabe hasn't pressed any further about the money he makes at the machine shop and hasn't yet found out about the diner, so Percy's moving out fund steadily grows. It's small, but it's there. The idea of making it out of the trailer is what keeps him focused, his head down, his hands moving. His bruises ache with ceaseless vigour, but the discomfort they cause him is nothing but a superficial monster that pales in the face of Percy's naive, wishful hope.

To his surprise, Annabeth drops by most days to come and hang out with him at the machine shop. She always brings him a coffee or a hot chocolate, then leans against the car he's working on and begins talking endlessly about nothing and everything. He only punctuates the conversation with a few words of his own as his concentration has to remain on the mechanical problems before him, but that doesn't matter. He just likes being near her.

It's ten at night, and Percy's shift is nearly over. Annabeth's been there for most of the evening, editing photos on her new phone. She's getting so good at photography that it's kind of scary. "Do you prefer this one with increased saturation?" she asks, showing Percy the photo in question as he locks the receipt cabinet.

He doesn't know much about photography, but Annabeth just likes bouncing her thoughts off him. "Yeah, that looks good," he tells her. He scrubs his wrist over his forehead, then smiles tiredly. "Alright, I'm done. We can head off."

Percy cycles Annabeth home on his bike. The gravel path below them is rough, but Percy speeds over it with practised ease. Across the field, the sun crests the horizon, turning a brilliant crimson. Soft light pours over them, the last exhalation of a harsh summer day. Annabeth's arms are warm around his waist, and he can feel her gentle breathing ripple over the back of his neck. She whoops and throws back her head as Percy puts on speed, laughing.

When they reach her estate, she gets off his bike with a gentle thud of heels. "Thanks, Percy," she says, quietly but not tentatively.

" _I_ should be the one to thank _you_ ," he grins. "For keeping me company."

She shakes her head. "Well, _I_ should apologise for being a distraction." They both laugh, caught up in an inside joke that neither of them quite understand yet. After a heartbeat, she hugs Percy, but pulls away too quickly. His hands find her wrists, gentle as they slip away.

"See you tomorrow?" he asks. "My shift's at seven."

"I'll be there." They're both still for a moment, in the clutches of a spell. It has to break, though. Annabeth steps back, waving as she turns. She opens the gate and walks through, calling, "Bye, Percy."

One hand still on his bike's handlebars, Percy raises the other to wave back. "Goodbye," he whispers. For an infinite moment, he watches Annabeth until she disappears around the bend.

* * *

The summer slips through Percy's fingers like sand through an hourglass. He's around Annabeth and the others most of the time, which is nice. It's easy to lose himself to the inoffensive routine of work, of skating, of staying up late reading comics and graphic novels. Summer has always been his favourite season.

The final few days left in August roll around before Percy realises it. The hot, stifling weather that's characterised the recent months fades away, twisting brutally into rain. It hits Virginia hard. Leo and Percy are at the skate park early on a Sunday morning, laughing and messing around on the ramps when the first dredges of rain slip from the sky. At first, they put up with it, but soon enough the concrete surface of the ramps are slick enough that keeping control of a skateboard on them is a game of chance.

As the rain turns into hail, Leo curses. "Let's get out of here."

Raising his board above his head to protect his face from the sharp, stinging hail, Percy yells, "Seconded." The pair of them sprint for shelter as the hail keeps coming down, brutal as ever. Completely soaked, they stumble under the leafy canopy of a low-hanging tree to wait out the hail. Percy holds his board close to his chest, trying to stop himself from shivering. "Well, that came out of nowhere. I don't think the weather's ever been so unpredictable in Virginia before."

"Climate change, probably."

Percy nods, gaze vacant as he watches the hail. Eventually, it turns into sleet and then melts back into heavy rain. He lays his board down on the muddy grass and sits on it, letting out a sigh. "Guess we're trapped here." Past the dry ground under the tree, raindrops patter hard and fast.

"Hopefully, the rain will stop soon," Leo says, gaze tilted up towards Virginia's grey skies. His words are almost drowned out by the cacophonous rain. Absently, he picks up a stick and draws a face in the dirt. "Percy?"

"Yeah?"

"I really wish we didn't have to start school in a few days."

Percy grimaces. "I know. But after this year, we'll start high school. Everything will be better."

"I hope so."

After a moment, Percy grins and nudges Leo. "Hey. Let's skate in the rain."

Leo shoots him a look. "But it's freezing—we're only in T-shirts!"

"So?"

After a second of deliberation, a smile tugs at Leo's mouth. "Alright. Fuck it." The pair of them grab their boards and take off for the road, their laughter a brace against the cold. Percy kicks down his board and pushes off, water lancing up around him. He does a toe flip without hesitation, barely managing to steady himself on the rain-slick pavement.

They skate for a while in the rain, using up their last dredges of adrenaline. By the end of it, Percy's knees are scraped and his skin is tinted blue from the cold. He can't stop smiling.

* * *

Honestly, starting school again isn't quite as brutal as Percy expected. It's irritating to not be making as much money as he's been able to over summer and the homework is more horrendous than ever, but none of that matters as much as getting to see Annabeth all the time in class.

Still, like clockwork, something has to go wrong. Gabe's been in a piss-poor mood all week and it's been exhausting trying to fly as low under the radar as Percy possibly can. His stepfather will find any excuse to vent his bitter complaints about the state of the trailer, about Percy's constant laziness, about whatever his _fucking good-for-nothing cow_ of a boss did this time. Whenever Gabe goes into one of his drunken spiels, all Percy can do is nod and stare fixedly downwards, afraid to move even an inch.

That week, Percy tries to stay out of the trailer as much as possible. He finds himself hanging out with Rachel late in the evening after work, sitting outside her trailer to procrastinate going inside his own. He never wants to face Gabe's fickle irritation.

It's the end of the week. Percy and Rachel are leaning against the steps of her trailer, enjoying the yogurt cups Rachel's mom gave them. Percy's so tired that he could fall asleep where he's sitting, but every single one of his instincts warn him to wait a little longer before going inside. He spoons more yogurt into his mouth, letting it melt on his tongue. His jaw's been bruised all week and chewing kinda hurts, so he's grateful for the easy food.

Beside him, Rachel hums in appreciation. "God, I love strawberry."

He leans his head against the wheel of Rachel's chair, staring up at November's darkening, violet skies. "Yeah," he answers. He doesn't think he registered that the yogurts _were_ strawberry-flavoured. Absently, he scrapes up the last of his yogurt. "Rach?"

"Uh huh?"

"What day is it again?"

"Friday," she replies.

"Oh," he answers, almost soundless. "I'm so tired. I guess I'm just burnt out."

Rachel puts down her yogurt cup and nods, reaching down subconsciously to massage her unmoving calves. Percy wonders if they hurt at all, or if they just feel empty. "I'd be, if I were you."

If Percy was any more present, he wouldn't say what he's about to say. But he's exhausted, so he says, "Can I ask you something?"

Rachel looks at him, pale green eyes like glass in the dark. "Sure."

"You never told me how you broke your spine," he says, quietly.

She looks—not surprised, exactly. "You never asked." Then, "I don't mind telling you." Percy says nothing. She looks away again. "I got pushed down the stairs."

Percy takes an unsteady breath. "What happened?"

Rachel stares down at where her hand rests on the arm of her wheelchair. Her chipped, cherry-painted nails stand stark against her freckled hands. "I was five. My mom and dad were recently divorced, and they were arguing upstairs. Fighting. There was, um…there was shouting, so I went up. I crashed into my dad storming through the hallway. He took me by the shoulders and told me that they'd used to be happy, that this was all my fault, that everything had been better before." Her voice is halting. She sighs. "Then he pushed me down the stairs. I was in the hospital for three months."

A hot spike of pain twinges in Percy's gut. Rachel's too _good_ to have had that done to her. "I hate your dad," he says to her. Carefully, to hold back the rush of vehement anger that threatens to swell up and swallow him whole.

Rachel's gaze flickers back to his. "And I hate yours," she says—slowly, blankly. Somehow, Percy knows she isn't talking about his birth dad. He leans his head against her wheelchair again, and the two of them sit in charged silence for a while longer.

* * *

Annabeth goes away to a family friend's house for Christmas. Gabe's out drinking on Christmas Day, leaving Percy to his own devices. Unsure where to go, he cycles over frost-covered paths to Leo's group home.

He skids to a halt outside and peers up into the top window—the room Leo stays in. Thankfully, Leo's sitting at the window, a pair of bulky headphones over his corkscrew-curling hair. Percy cups his hands around his mouth and yells, "Valdez!" Leo doesn't react, just continues bouncing his head to whatever song is playing in his ears. Percy resorts to drastic measures and chucks a pebble at the window.

It bounces off, and Leo jerks his head in Percy's direction. He mouths something before seemingly realising Percy can't hear him, and reaches down to drag open his window. Sticking his head out, he calls down, "Hey! What are you doing here?"

Percy drums his cold fingers on his handlebars. "Got some time to kill," he shouts back. "Are you busy?"

Leo turns back into the room for a moment to talk to whoever's behind him, then answers, "We've gotta stay in 'cause it's Christmas, but you can come up here if you want."

Percy thinks for a moment, then nods. "Alright, yeah!"

After Percy locks his bike up outside, Leo opens the door for him. "You look fucking freezing," he observes.

Percy's teeth are chattering slightly. Sarcastic as anything, he retorts, "No way."

They head up to the room Leo shares with two other kids. He's got his own corner, stacked high with comics and sketchbooks. Percy perks up when he notices the small, silver radio on Leo's bedside. "That's new."

Leo grins. "Got it for Christmas. Jeanne pulled through, huh?"

"Yeah, it's real nice." The pair of them flop down on Leo's bed.

"How come you're here, then?" Leo asks.

Percy fiddles with his fraying shoelace, fighting back a grimace. "My stepdad's out," he answers. Leo, like the others, knows nothing about Gabe and Percy wants to keep it that way.

"Ah, right." Just then, one of the younger kids opens the door, a toothy smile on their face. He's wearing a reindeer beanie. "What, Marcus?" Leo asks.

Marcus bounces up and down on the balls of his feet excitedly. "We're playing Uno! Do you wanna join in?" A pause, then, "It's Christmas. Please?"

Leo gives Marcus a long-suffering look, but his integrity cracks as he sighs, nodding. "Sure, fine. We'll be there in a moment."

Five minutes later, Percy's sitting awkwardly on the floor of the group home's living room, surrounded by a few other kids. A girl who looks a little older than Percy and Leo has seemingly also fallen prey to Marcus' charms. Her black hair is buzzed close to the scalp, and a silver septum piercing adorns her nose. "No, Marcus. You have to _shuffle_ first. Look—" She gently takes the cards off him and expertly shuffles them with a dealer's grace.

"Wow. You're pretty good at that," Percy remarks.

The girl, Lila, flashes him a grin. "Used to work in a casino." Quickly, she deals the cards into five stacks. Everyone takes their cards. "Daniel, you start."

Percy gets sucked into the game quickly. Once he understands the rules, it turns out he can be a brutal player. He wins three hands in a row, much to Leo's chagrin. "You're evil," Leo groans as Percy lays down a seventh plus-four.

Percy grins. "C'mon. Pick up."

He spends the rest of the day at Leo's home, swept up in the holiday spirit. Of course, the atmosphere isn't great—there's a few explosive arguments between the older kids—but it's nice to hang out with Leo. Some of the kids are really funny, and he can see how this could be an okay place to live.

Once it's dark outside, Percy heads out into the bitter night towards his tied-up bike. Lila lent him a pair of black gloves to wear home upon noticing his cracked, dry hands. "Buy some fucking moisturiser or something," she's ordered him, rolling her eyes. "It costs, like, a dollar fifty."

Leo follows him out, standing by his bike as he climbs on. "It's been great seeing you, Jackson. Get home safe, yeah? It's icy out there."

"Yeah. Thanks, Leo." He smiles and waves a gloved hand, kicking off into the all-encompassing dark.

* * *

Percy's standing outside Annabeth's church, skateboard tucked under his arm. The battered watch on his wrist reads nine 'o' clock, and the sun has already risen. Its light glances off the church's stained glass windows, fracturing again and again into itself. Winter is long gone—it's May, now. Percy sighs, tapping his foot against the gravel floor of the parking lot outside. Against the backdrop of the ancient church, the lot somehow feels out of place.

Eventually, Mass finishes and people begin to trickle out the church's doors. Percy watches expectantly, craning his neck. It's not long before he spots a familiar head of blonde hair walking out of the church, head bowed in conversation with Bobby. When she looks up, though, a grin splits her face. "Percy!" She runs to meet him, cornflower-blue dress rippling around her knees. Seeing Annabeth in her Sunday best knocks the breath out of him every time. "How are you?"

"I'm good," he answers. "How was church?"

Annabeth glances back, shaking her head with a laugh. "Long. Sort of a piss-take." She pauses. "I always like it, though."

Percy nods, though he's unable to imagine enjoying anything to do with church. "Let's go, then."

The pair of them head off, walking shoulder-to-shoulder down an overgrown cobblestone path. Their voices are quiet, echoing out into the crystallised morning. "I don't know where the fuck we're going," Percy admits. "I've never been down this way before."

"Don't worry. I know the way," Annabeth reassures him. She pushes through some greenery as the stone path narrows, overgrown with foliage. At last, they emerge into open air once again. Bright sunlight washes over Percy's face, and he has to shield his eyes.

The path opens up beside a riverbank. Leo and Piper are stretched out on a picnic blanket beside it, talking animatedly. "Hey, we're here," Percy calls.

Leo and Piper's heads turn towards Percy's voice. Leo yells, "How was church, Annie?"

Collapsing on the picnic blanket, Annabeth shoots Leo a dirty look. "Don't be annoying. I told you not to call me that."

Leo grins. "But I like Annie."

"Well, I don't," she complains, smoothing out her blue dress. She perks up when she notices the wicker basket that lays open beside Piper. "Oh, what'd you bring?"

Piper smiles, reaching into the basket. "I made éclairs last night, so I took some with me. And…" She pauses for effect before pulling out a bottle of wine. "My dad's finest Merlot!"

Percy gapes. "Are you joking?"

"Of course I'm joking," she laughs, rolling her eyes. "He bought it for us from the ten dollar bin. I made some sandwiches, too—I thought you guys might be up for a picnic."

"McLean," Leo says, deadly serious, "I'm always up for a picnic."

Annabeth smiles warmly. "Thanks, Piper. This is gonna be really great day. Oh, and—" She flips open her satchel and withdraws the new camera that she got for Christmas a few months, which is a pretty huge step up from her old analog camera. It's a Canon, with a silver scope that gleams in the morning light. "I need to take some photos today, as well. The lighting's too good to miss."

"Need to?" Percy asks.

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, I _want_ to. Besides, I've gotta start building a better portfolio—we're starting high school in the autumn."

"I think they'll let you take photography no matter what, Annabeth," Piper grins.

Annabeth heaves an irritated, long-suffering sigh. "Why can't you just let me overachieve in peace?"

As the day waxes into noon, the four of them lay beside the river, enjoying Piper's homemade éclairs and sipping Merlot from plastic cups. The familiar guilt about drinking alcohol twinges in Percy, but he pushes it away; he's not letting Gabe ruin their day out. Once they're bored, they all change into their swimmers. Percy leaves his T-shirt on. There's a bruise on his side that he doesn't want the others to see.

He dips his toes into the river and hisses, quickly drawing it back out. "God! It's freezing."

"Wimp," Leo accuses. "I bet it's not even cold."

Percy raises a brow. "Jump in, then."

"But we don't know how shallow it is! There might be rocks."

With a grin, Percy shoots back, "Oh, so _you're_ the wimp here."

Leo narrows his eyes at Percy and points a finger at him. "You drive a hard bargain, Jackson." With that, he takes a few steps back from the riverbank and exhales. Without hesitation, he takes a running jump and leaps into the air, drawing his knees to his chest. He screeches as the cold water encases him, sinking with momentum. When he resurfaces, he's shivering and thrashing wildly for the riverbank. "Jesus, it's fucking cold!" The rest of them burst into laughter.

It doesn't take long for them to grow accustomed to the harsh water temperature. With the sunlight warm on their faces, they're quickly swept up in the fun of swimming and splashing each other.

Annabeth's the first to climb out, skin ice-hued and freezing in only her bikini. "Where's my towel? Where's my towel?" she shrieks, running to her satchel.

Percy follows her out of the water, wringing out the sodden hem of his T-shirt. "Did you remember one for me?" he asks.

Annabeth nods, teeth chattering as she pulls two pink fluffy towels out of her satchel. She hands Percy one and hauls the other around her own shoulders, snuggling into it. "Ah, thank God."

Without thinking, Percy pulls off the T-shirt he swam in and scrubs Annabeth's towel over his wet hair. Gaze snapping to his bruised side, Annabeth's brow furrows. "Hey, what happened?"

He tenses, trying to school his face into an unbothered expression as he dries himself off. God _, w_ hy didn't he _think_? "Crashed my skateboard," he explains, fighting not to pull away as Annabeth reaches out and gently traces the sprawling, purple bruise. It's been healing for a while.

"It looks bad," she murmurs. As though realising what she's doing, she jerks her hand away. "When did you do it?"

"A week ago," he answers. A rigid half-smile is all he can muster. "Don't worry. It doesn't hurt."

Annabeth looks unconvinced. "You should put some Arnica on it," she tells him.

"Okay. I will."

She holds his gaze. "There's some back at mine. You can use that. If you want."

He smiles again, more softly this time. "Okay. Thanks, Annabeth." Turning around, he rummages in his backpack for a fresh shirt. He pulls it on, threading his still-damp arms through it.

For a moment, Annabeth's expression is cloudy. She shakes her head, as though repelling a thought. Then, she says, "Can I take some photos of you while your hair's wet?"

A little blindsided, Percy nods haltingly. "Yeah. Alright."

Quickly pulling on her dress over her bikini, she grabs her camera from where it lays on the picnic blanket. Barefoot, the pair of them walk across the grass to look for a good spot. Annabeth shields her eyes against the sunlight, turning in a semi-circle. "Okay. Here's good."

Self-conscious, Percy runs a hand through his damp hair in an effort to tame it. Over in the river, Leo yells and scrabbles up the riverbank as Piper tries to drag him back in. Percy laughs. Before he can look back, Annabeth's camera clicks. "Hey," he protests as she admires her shot.

"What?" she grins. "I like candid photos."

He rolls his eyes. "How do you want me, then?"

"Shoulders back. Smile a little more." Then, "No, not that much. Okay, turn to the left a bit." She raises the camera to her eye again, adjusting the lense. This time, Percy's expecting the sudden _click_ when it comes _._

They take photos for a while, occasionally pausing to stand close together over the camera to see if they've got any good ones. Percy thinks all of Annabeth's photos are great, but she never seems quite happy with them. At one point, Percy grabs the camera off Annabeth and sprints away, taking blurry photos of her chasing after him over his shoulder. He lets her catch up, fingers closing around the hem of his shirt. But just as she grabs Percy, her foot snags in a rabbit hole and they tumble together into the long grass, laughing.

Rather than helping each other up, they just lie on their backs for a moment. Grass tickles Percy's neck. "I was gonna give it back," he tells her, grinning.

Annabeth doesn't respond, only lets out a contented sigh and closes her eyes. "I can't believe it's already May. We're about to start high school."

Percy nods, but he's too busy focusing on the way Annabeth's wet hair clings to her neck to entirely take in what she's saying. The freckles on her nose and cheeks that faded during the winter months are now beginning to emerge again. Slowly and quietly, he raises the stolen camera and carefully takes a photo of Annabeth—her side-profile, framed by grass.

When she hears the click, Annabeth's eyes fly open. "Percy!" she complains, snatching her camera off him. "You didn't even tell me you were taking one."

"Well, I like candid photos," Percy mimics, teasing her.

She opens the camera gallery to look at the photo he took. When it comes up, she laughs. "It's barely in focus!"

"Whatever," Percy sighs, flopping back down on the grass. He adds, "It's not like _I'm_ the photographer here."

Annabeth laughs. "You sure aren't." She moves to rest her head on Percy's shoulder, exhaling quietly. "I really like it here."

Percy's heart stutters slightly. "I do too," he murmurs, smiling dazedly. The wine has fogged up his head slightly, slowing his thoughts. "Hey, Annabeth."

"What?"

"I think this is the first time I've actually been excited about school."

Annabeth shuts her eyes again, nestling into his shoulder. "How come?" she asks. He thinks she might be falling asleep—and in such soft grass and warm sunlight, he doesn't blame her.

"I don't know. I've just got a good feeling," he answers, giving in to the desire to close his own eyes. The sounds of the birds and Annabeth's steady breathing are enough to drain the tension from his bones. For the first time in a while, he allows himself to be content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's a wrap on Act One! let me know what you've thought so far :D from now on, the story is going to shift into a darker direction. there will (of course) be some cute romance, but there's also gonna be a lot of shit they'll need to overcome. I'm so excited for everything that's going to happen—even though I might get yelled at in the comments for making y'all cry lmao.
> 
> while we're here, I just want to thank you guys for reading, commenting and generally supporting this fic! love you all so much holy crap.


	12. tangible horrors

**ACT TWO**

_"_ _To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is the bad dream."_ _—Sylvia Plath_

* * *

For Annabeth, high school marks a quickly-approaching change from a monotonous life to an invigorating one. She's excited to finally take photography seriously, to build a _real_ portfolio and learn how to improve the quality of her work. And there's something about the idea of high school that feels so much more momentous, so much more vivid than middle school did.

Percy's told her that he feels the same way, except he mostly wants to be older so he can make more money at work. Annabeth understands; it must be annoying to make less than you would otherwise just because you're under sixteen.

Mileview High School's building is far more impressive than their middle school—it's way bigger, all arcing windows and stone doorways. As Annabeth walks up to it for the first time, she's seized by the fleeting desire to take out her camera and study the architecture. Dozens of students pour in around her as she walks through the open doors, chattering and laughing amongst themselves. Annabeth cranes her neck, searching for the others. Piper's meant to meet her by the entrance; she'll feel better about being somewhere completely alien to her with her best friends by her side.

"Annabeth!" someone yells. She whips her head around to see Piper and Percy standing by a row of lockers, looking excited but a little overwhelmed. Percy smiles at Annabeth as she approaches. With a faded blue shirt and battered sneakers, he looks more Percy-like than ever. It's comforting, to be honest.

"Hey," she grins. "You guys ready?"

Piper groans. "No. How is summer already over? I hate how school came out of nowhere."

"I'm ready for it, honestly," Percy admits. "It's gonna be nice not having to regularly work full days, even if it _is_ because we've got school every day."

"I can't believe none of us have any classes together," Annabeth complains. "I'm not gonna know who to talk to."

"Try socialising," Piper teases. "Open yourself up to new friendships like, you know, an actual human does."

She fixes her with a glare. "Shut it, McLean." Piper and Percy laugh, and even Annabeth has to crack a smile. _This feels okay_ , she thinks—the familiarity of the three of them together sets her at a kind of slow, simple ease. At once, her nerves begin to abate.

She's not sure why she didn't expect it, but high school is fast-paced. After she gets acquainted with her homeroom, each hour-long period dissolves like quicksand. Math is alright, and so is Chemistry. They both come naturally to her, like most academic subjects. Helen always tells her she's lucky that way; some people have to work twice as hard.

Photography, though, becomes her favourite class as soon as she walks through the door. It's her only elective, so maybe that was inevitable. The shiny equipment that lines the room instantly intrigues her and she knows she'll love the course as soon as their teacher hands out the syllabus.

She's reading through the list of the various kinds of photography they'll be learning about when the blond guy next to her says, "I can't believe I signed up for this."

"What? Why's that?" Annabeth asks, disbelieving.

Her shock must come through in her voice because the guy laughs, putting down his sheet. "'Cause I know nothing about it! I just thought it looked cool." When he speaks, the scar on his lip quirks.

Annabeth offers him a hesitant smile. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll pick it up. As long as you've got something of a creative streak, you'll do fine."

"I guess so," he answers, sounding reassured. He scrubs hand over the back of his neck and sighs, staring glumly at the blackboard. Miss Ellis—their teacher—has scrawled a list of the array of equipment they'll need on it in chalk. "Fuck, I didn't realise we had to buy a camera," he mutters, noting down the equipment she's listed. Annabeth is about to respond but she cuts herself off when Miss Ellis starts talking. This doesn't seem to deter the guy next to her, though. He whispers, "So, what's your name? I'm Jason."

"It's Annabeth," she hisses back. "Now shut up. I'm trying to listen."

As the class progresses, her and Jason soon become fast friends. Despite his claim that he knows nothing about photography, it's easy to bounce ideas off him for the pinhole project they're starting. He even comes up with some pretty good ideas of his own that Annabeth would never have initially thought of.

The bell goes. They leave the class together, talking intently. "You're kidding. I don't believe you've never seen Star Wars," Annabeth tells him incredulously. "It's like, _culture_."

"Says the girl who _says_ she doesn't listen to Beyonce."

Annabeth gapes. "Because I have taste, thank you very much!"

Jason laughs. "Alright, Annie. We'll agree to disagree."

"You're worse than Leo," Annabeth groans.

Annabeth waits by Jason's locker for him to grab his Biology textbook. "Why? Who's Leo?"

"A friend who also insists on calling me that goddamn nickname every goddamn chance he gets."

He grins, closing his locker. "I think it's a great nickname. See you later, _Annie_."

"I hate you."

Jason waves over his shoulder as he heads off to his next class. "You can't hate your new friend!" he calls.

Annabeth sighs, heading off in the opposite direction to her Latin class. Piper falls into step beside her, nudging her in greeting. "Oh, you met Jason," she says. "He's in my music class."

"So you know he's insufferable."

"Insufferable?" Piper asks. "All I know is that he's better on a fucking piano than I am. _Oh, you're Grade Four? I'm Grade Seven_ ," she mimics. "He's an idiot. A good-looking idiot, though."

Annabeth laughs. "Why am I not surprised you've already found someone to crush on?"

Piper rolls her eyes. "Please. He's gotta have more than just nice hands to besot me."

"You already sound pretty besotted," she says under her breath.

Piper narrows her eyes. "What was that?"

With a nervous smile, Annabeth gestures to the classroom they're approaching that is, thankfully, her English class. "Oh, I gotta go. See ya."

"Hey, get your ass back here!" Piper demands as Annabeth ducks inside Latin for safety. She sits down, pulling out her textbook.

Lunchtime is strange. There's still the four of them, of course, but then there's others. Voices around Annabeth that she doesn't know, that are all interesting and different and _new._ Jason stops at their table to talk, pasta pot in hand, before he's dragged away by one of his friends. Still, Annabeth feels like she belongs here. With Percy on her left, whispering crude remarks and inside jokes to her and smiling with his soft eyes, everything is the same as it's ever been.

The next few days of school pass just like that—unremarkably, with the sort of consistence that Annabeth's grateful for. She makes a few new friends, but she can't imagine being as close to them as she is with Percy, Leo and Piper. Theirs is a friendship cultivated over the years, taking over so many of Annabeth's warmest memories that she feels more comfortable around them than she does with anyone else. Still, she guesses that's just the kind of person she is. What use is a friendship if it's not all-encompassing, not something that catches you off guard and grips you entirely?

Helen says that expanding her circle is a good thing. "Keeping only a few close friends is amazing, Annabeth," she says over dinner, "but the more people who've got your back, the better."

* * *

After school on Thursday, Annabeth heads into town to get coffee. She's feeling drained, and is ready to hole up at home and recharge by lying on her bed and editing photos. She's got some homework to do, but she decides that can wait until the weekend. Coffee already half-finished, she quietly sings under her breath to the song playing in her earphones as she walks up the path to her estate.

Annabeth doesn't notice it when she opens the gate, doesn't notice it when she closes it behind her. She doesn't notice it when she pulls her phone out to skip the song she's on. It's not until she's a halfway up the neat, grey-brick path that the first tang of the metallic smell hits her nose. _Is that blood?_ she thinks, and looks up from her phone. The first thing she registers is the splash of warm coffee all over her shoes, then the resounding crack of her phone screen against stone. Ice lances through her lungs, stealing the breath from them like frostbite.

Her father lies, sprawled, over the steps to her house. His head is blown in, his brain matter on the green grass. He's still wearing his fucking work clothes, like he was just returning home. Annabeth crashes to her knees beside him, tears already streaming down her face. She screams, then screams again. He's been shot. He's dead. He's _dead._

"Dad," Annabeth mumbles, ragged and pained. Her hands flutter uselessly around his face, then grasp his shoulders and shake. "Dad!" she shouts hoarsely. "Wake up. Wake up. Wake _up,_ God. God." There's salt in her mouth, tears streaking her cheeks. She falls across his still body, pressing her forehead to his shoulder. She can't see anything but crimson, debilitated by the tangible horror of Frederick's still-warm corpse.

She yells Helen's name a thousand times before stumbling into the house, only to find a note letting Annabeth know that she's out grocery shopping. She dials 911 with shaking hands as she steps outside again, hating God, hating Him, hating Him.

The police find her in the grips of a panic attack as she kneels over Frederick, shaking him and shaking him as though the action might instil life back into his body. "Miss, we're here now," one of the officers says, tugging her gently to her feet. Annabeth's body isn't her own as the officer guides her away from Frederick and carefully sits her down. "I'm Officer Mariam Jones. You're in shock," the officer informs her as a soft blanket is wrapped around Annabeth's shoulders. "We're going to get to the bottom of this, I promise. Someone will pay for this murder."

The words rattle through Annabeth as she stares at the concrete, rewriting all her thoughts. Murder. Whoever shot her dad was a murderer. Officer Jones keeps talking, but whatever she's saying distorts into far-off radio static. All Annabeth can taste is the salt from her tears, and all she can smell is the coffee she spilt on her shoes.

She's never felt this hollow before.

Before Annabeth knows it, Helen's arms are around her. She says something to a police officer, and then she's talking to Annabeth. "It's okay. It's all going to be okay," she murmurs into Annabeth's hair.

She latches onto her stepmother, holding tight with every last drop of her strength. She's crying again. She didn't realise. "He's dead. Someone killed him," Annabeth gasps through her tears. "This isn't fucking fair. Why did they kill him? Why?" She buries her face in Helen's shoulder, holding so tight she's scared Helen's ribs might break.

"We're going to get through this," Helen murmurs. Annabeth doesn't know how she manages to sound so—so _strong_. She kisses Annabeth on the head once, then twice, and then she's crying. "My husband," is all she says, brokenly. The two of them stand there outside the crime scene that was once their driveway for an eternity, holding onto each other with the ferocity of the grieving.

* * *

Annabeth doesn't go to school the next day. She lies on the couch with Bobby and Matthew, cheeks as damp as they were when she found him. Neither of her brothers saw the body, which she's grateful for—the awful, awful image of it is all that's played on her mind for the last twenty-four hours. She's not sure if she'll ever stop seeing it.

Helen holds herself together by working to tie up all her husband's matters, which entails signing the will that leaves his assets to the four of them, phoning their few and distant relatives and working out what to do for his funeral. Annabeth knows that if Helen didn't have all this to do then she'd probably fall apart faster. It's obvious in the strained tension of her shoulders, in her smudged eyeliner, in the way she's locked the door of her and Frederick's bedroom and hasn't opened it; instead, she's been sleeping in the guest room.

Annabeth doesn't answer her phone, which blows up with calls from Piper and Leo. Percy doesn't have a phone, though she wishes he did. He's the only one who she would be okay with seeing her like this: a wreck, in every sense of the word.

The weekend is hardly a tick on Annabeth's radar. Her insomnia goes from bad to hell-inducing, and she doesn't sleep at all on Sunday night. She finds herself standing helplessly in the kitchen, gazing out the window over the sink into the dark night. Helen's passed out in the lounge, having been on the phone to a private investigator for hours. It's the first any of them have heard of the shady shit her dad was involved in during his youth, and she kind of wishes all of that could remain buried. It's easier to remember her dad as an aviation nerd than someone who was once involved in a crime syndicate.

Her feet are cold against the tiles of their kitchen floor, but that's nothing compared to the ache in Annabeth's chest. She pulls the sleeves of her cotton pyjama shirt down over her knuckles, balling her hands into fists. It's three in the morning. In all honesty, she hasn't even tried to sleep tonight; she knows that even if she did, the image of her father sprawled over the steps would haunt her nightmares. She misses him like a lung.

Behind her, she hears the padding of footsteps. "Annabeth?" calls a soft voice.

Though she feels immovable, she turns. "Bobby?"

He's standing in the doorway of the kitchen, half-moons printed like ink stains under his eyes. "I just came down for some water."

On instinct, Annabeth walks over to him. "Can't sleep either?" she asks, quietly. Bobby shakes his head. Lip trembling, he extends his arms. "Oh, come here," she murmurs, and pulls him into a hug. Even though she's meant to be the one comforting him, the warmth of Bobby is a heaven-sent lifeline.

"This isn't fair," Bobby mumbles into her shoulder, muffled by the fabric of her shirt.

Annabeth holds on a little tighter. "I know. It's shit," she whispers.

" _Really_ shit," Bobby repeats. Then, a little quieter, "Mum said we shouldn't swear."

Annabeth stares up at the ceiling, letting the shape of the light bulb sear itself onto her vision. "Between you and me, the situation calls for it."

Bobby nods into her shoulder. He's snuffling slightly—when he looks up at her, his cheeks are damp. "Are you gonna go into school tomorrow?"

Annabeth scoffs. "Wow. I forgot school was a thing that existed."

"But…are you gonna go?"

"No," she sighs. The ticking of the clock on the wall is the only constant left. It reverberates inside her mind: _tick, tick, tick._ "I'd probably humiliate myself by breaking down in Latin class."

Bobby laughs, but it's more like a shudder of pain. "Do you think…" he starts, but cuts himself off.

Annabeth draws back slightly, scanning Bobby's face. "Think what?" she urges.

"Do you think we'll be okay?"

The words strike a chord in her. "Oh, Bobby," she says, and summons a lie to the tip of her tongue as easily as breathing. "I know we will." She hugs him again, but only to silence the doubts in her own mind. After a moment, Annabeth breaks away from the hug. "Alright, let's get you some water. Then it's bedtime, yeah? _I'm_ supposed to be the insomniac here." She pokes him on the shoulder, wrestling her mouth into a smile. "Not you."

He nods weakly. "Yeah, okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys, I'm so sorry—really hope no one cried lmao. everything will be okay, I promise. and yes, WE'RE INTO ACT TWO! I'm so fucking excited :D thanks for reading, let me know what you thought!


	13. larger than life

It's raining hard. A canopy of clouds has flooded the sky, bleaching the colour from the world. Annabeth's hand is cold and immovable around the handle of her umbrella, and salty tear tracks dry slowly on her cheeks. She stares into the neat, rectangular pit her tiny family are all standing around, only half listening to the priest's voice.

" _Oh dream how sweet, too sweet, too bittersweet,_ " he recites, hands clasped, " _Whose wakening should have been in Paradise, where souls brim-full of love abide and meet; where thirsting longing eyes watch the slow door that opening, letting in, lets out no more._ " As his words wash over Annabeth, Helen lets out a choked sob.

Annabeth chews slowly on her lip, watching rain lash the surface of her father's mahogany coffin and trickle slowly in droplets down the sides. It's impossible to stop imagining him lying motionless inside it, face pale and decimated. For some reason, she keeps expecting to look down to find coffee spilled over her shoes and blood staining her hands.

After the priest finishes his sermon and her dad's coffin has been covered with loose earth, she's asked to say a few words. Annabeth only shakes her head; she knows if she even began to let loose the raging grief in her chest, it would do nothing but drown her like a tidal wave.

* * *

Now, it's coming up on two weeks since she found him. She hasn't been to school or seen any of her friends since, for fear of breaking down. Still, she probably should. At the very least, it's going to be hell to catch up on schoolwork. It's Friday, so maybe she can take the time to steel herself enough to go back on Monday.

Somehow, she knows that won't be enough.

In an effort to fend off the numbness in her body, Annabeth gets out of bed and grabs King's lead from where it hangs on her bedroom door. King gets up with her, barking and nosing around her legs. She manages a smile. "That's right, buddy. You ready for a walk?"

When Annabeth walks past the kitchen door with King, Helen doesn't look up from the forms she's working through. She only calls, "Where are you going, love?"

"Walking King," Annabeth responds, stepping into her shoes.

"Oh, okay," Helen murmurs. She scrubs her hands over her face, worsening the mascara smudges on her cheeks. "Wear a coat—it's cold out."

Annabeth's coat is upstairs, so she doesn't bother. She opens the door and closes her eyes as she walks down the steps, but the image of her father sprawled over them still flashes behind her eyes. She focuses on King's excited panting as she clicks open the gate, barely registering the bitter September chill that scrapes at her bare arms.

She walks King along their normal route, wishing she thought to bring her earphones with her. The walk helps a little; the cold shocks her awake, lessening the dissociation that's recently been all she knows. She folds her arms around herself and allows King to tug her along.

But as she comes up to the crossroads, she hears someone shout her name. "Annabeth!" She whips her head up to see Percy cycling up on his bike, brows furrowed.

"Oh. Hi," she manages. It's such a wonderful, beautiful shock to the system to see Percy that she almost starts crying then and there.

"Annabeth, are you alright? God, you look freezing. You're fucking blue." He swings off and lets his bike clatter to the gravel path, pulling off his jacket. Holding it out for her, he rubs a calloused hand up and down the side of her cold arm. "What are you doing out in just a T-shirt, you idiot?" When Annabeth doesn't move, he sighs and tucks his jacket around her himself. His expression is indiscernible. Annabeth almost doesn't expect it when he pulls her into a tight, unflinching hug. "I was just cycling up to see you. To check if you're—if you're okay." Those last few words are halting. Uncertain.

It's easy to melt into him, to hug him back harder. "Percy," is all she can say. Suddenly, she's warm again.

He pulls back slightly. His eyes are searching, stripping her to her core. "I know you wanted space to grieve, but it's been days. I was worried." He lets out a uneasy laugh and hugs her again. "God. Everything must feel awful right now."

Annabeth nods, cursing the dampness threatening to fall from her waterline. "It kind of is. We're…we're managing, though. I'm okay." She pauses. "I missed you. And the others."

"We've missed you too," Percy tells her. "Whenever you're ready to see us, we'll be waiting." He pauses. "You seem tired. Have you been sleeping?"

She barks a laugh. "Not really."

He's silent for a moment. "Are they any closer to catching whoever did it?"

"You mean the killer?" Annabeth shakes her head. "No. All we know is that my dad was involved in some shady shit earlier on in his life, and what do you know? It came back to bite him." Her voice is unstable, almost unhinged. Percy's arms have slipped away from around her, but he's still holding onto the hem of her shirt—like he's afraid she'll slip away again if he lets go.

When Percy speaks, his voice is unbearably quiet. "I'm sorry, Annabeth. He didn't deserve this. _You_ don't deserve this."

"I keep seeing him," she grits out. "I see him in the daytime; I see him at night. His blood, his face, the stupid coffee I spilt everywhere. I don't know how to stop it. I can't…" She trails off into a distressed sob, letting Percy gather her into his arms again. "Why the hell did I have to be the one to—to find him?"

"Everything's gonna be hard for a while," he mutters. "Don't think about the present. Don't think about the past. Just keep moving. I'll be here."

"How do you know what I should do?" she complains, scrubbing away the hysterical tears that brim from her eyes. "Even _I_ don't know what I should do. It's infuriating."

He half-smiles, pulling away for the last time. Annabeth instantly misses his touch, craves the feeling of safety she finds in her oldest friend. "Do you want me to walk you home?" he asks, gently taking King's lead off her. He bends down for a moment to pet King, who whines and nuzzles his leg. She nods, sniffing. Percy disappears for a moment to grab his bike and then he's at her side again, lacing his arm through hers. "C'mon, let's go," he urges. "It's goddamn cold out here."

When Annabeth is home again, she realises Percy's threadbare jacket is still wrapped around her shoulders. She tugs it tighter around herself, breathing in the scents of machine oil and cheap detergent that cling to the worn leather.

* * *

Starting high school for the second time feels like a homecoming, albeit an unwelcome one. The first few months are hard. Still, she finds refuge in Percy, in Leo, in Piper. They seem to have come to an unspoken agreement to hang around Annabeth as much as possible to keep her mind off the bad things. She doesn't know for certain, but she suspects Percy may even be taking fewer shifts than normal. If she's honest, he's probably the only thing keeping her from going crazy.

Helen is running out of forms to fill out, running out of her husband's possessions to pack up in neat boxes and store in their garage. Her normally well-kept appearance begins to fray. First, it's her hair—then her nails, followed by her clothes. Annabeth tries to look after Bobby and Matthew as much as she can to take some of the burden off Helen, but it doesn't help. Annabeth will sometimes find her stepmother sitting stock-still and silent in front of their fireplace, staring with an empty, pearlescent gaze into the roaring flames.

Annabeth tries to be distracted by her schoolwork. She catches up quickly and never loses momentum even after, studying late into the night and into the early morning as a means of seizing jurisdiction over her insomnia. It's never lonely; King's taken to curling up at the foot of her bed, and his warmth keeps her company. The nights aren't hellish as long as she sleeps only long enough to rest, not to dream. She can't count the number of times she's woken up screaming, the bloody sight of Frederick's corpse seared into her retinas.

She isn't afraid of his murderer, only hates that they're just another question left unanswered.

It's easy to settle back into school, to return to the routine of things. It's last period on Thursday and she's kneeling on the floor of their photography classroom with Jason, gluing prints to the project board they're working on together. Their photos are littered all over the floor. "I hate pinhole photography," he groans. "I can't wait until we finally move on and do portraiture."

"Agreed," Annabeth mutters, trimming the edges of one of her prints. It's a view of Virginia from her window—the sun crests the horizon, and strange shadows are cast by the trees. It's an interesting composition, though definitely not her favourite. "I wanna do the independent project already, to be honest."

"That's not till next year."

"I know," she mutters, sticking the print down. Their board is titled _Kenneth A. Connors_ , the photographer they're studying. "I don't mind this, though. At least I'm picking up some techniques."

Suddenly, the bell goes. "Damn," Jason curses. "This has gotta be handed in on Monday, right?"

"Yeah. You wanna finish it tomorrow after school?"

"Works for me." They stand up, filing everything away and head out amongst the flood of their other classmates. Jason checks his watch as Annabeth opens her locker and takes out the textbooks she'll need at home, slipping them into her satchel. "My sister can't pick me up for our appointment until four," Jason tells her. "We could hang out until then." When Annabeth pauses, he adds, "You don't have to."

"Yeah, sure," she decides. "You can test me on some Latin verbs."

The pair of them end up on a bench in the park. Annabeth revises Latin for the upcoming test while they brainstorm ideas for their portraiture project. "I think I'll probably try experimenting with lighting and stuff," Jason muses.

"Yeah," she answers, too absorbed in her conjugations. _Eram. Eras. Erat._ To Annabeth's shock, Jason pulls a tobacco pouch out of his bag and starts rolling a cigarette. She blanches. "You're literally fourteen."

"I'm aware of that."

"You know I'm talking about the smoking, right?"

Tiredly, he sighs, "Yeah, I know it's not great. It's harder to quit than you think."

"How did you even get addicted?" Annabeth asks, wincing at the judgemental tone in her voice.

Jason doesn't answer immediately, busy wetting the paper's adhesive strip with his tongue and rolling up the cigarette. Hollowly, he stares at his neat creation for a moment before speaking. "My mom was, uh, a pretty bad influence. I'm lucky smoking was the only thing I picked up from her."

"She still around?" Annabeth asks, already regretting the question.

His pale gaze flickers to her own. "Nah. She was drunk—car crash."

Annabeth loses her breath. "I'm sorry," she says, but even that sounds pathetic. All the apologies in the universe could never make her own dad exist again.

"It's fine—I don't really miss her. And as Thalia's eighteen, she's legally my guardian. Keeps us out of the foster system, at least." Digging around in his pocket, Jason pulls out a lighter. "You've got it worse. You loved your dad."

The scrawled Latin she's been writing stands stark before her, ink-dark and larger than life against the crisp, white pages of her notebook. Voice quiet as a far-off echo, she says, "I did." She sits unbearably still for a minute while Jason works on his cigarette. The bitter smell of the smoke he breathes out is an anchor to reality; Annabeth squeezes her eyes shut for several heartbeats, fending off the oh-so-familiar image of her father's broken form on the steps. The Image, capitalised. That's what it's become to her. Knuckles white on the spine of her notebook, she drags out, "Jason."

"Yeah?"

"Can I try it?"

Cautious, he asks, "What? You really want a drag?"

"Just one won't hurt."

For a second, it looks as though he might say no. But then he holds out his cigarette, an offering. "Sure, but you're probably not gonna like it."

She takes it. Between her fingers, it's a foreign object. Annabeth knows she'd never start smoking—she's too smart for that. But she wants to know if it'll make The Image go away. Raising it to her lips, she inhales and pulls the smoke right down into her lungs. It's bitter, harsh. The exhalation feels good, so she takes another drag. This time, she coughs. It doesn't help. The Image is still there, branded like a bloodstain into her retinas. She passes the cigarette back to Jason, almost disappointed. "Thanks," she murmurs.

He smiles, almost haltingly. "Do you need to talk about anything?"

She lets out a breath, staring at the crumbling ash on the ground from Jason's cigarette. A breeze picks it up, blowing it out of sight. "I don't know."

"You can, if you want. Talk about it."

Running a thumb over the open page of her notebook, she shakes her head. "I don't need to…to talk. I just need to process."

Jason's lip quirks. "Talking can help with processing."

"What, so you're a fucking therapist now?"

"Hey, I could so be a therapist," he rebukes. "So, what's on your mind?"

"My dad," she mutters.

"I kinda gathered that."

She swats him, nearly making him drop his cigarette. "Jackass. You told me to talk." Jason doesn't respond, only gestures for her to go on. "I've always had trouble sleeping. Insomnia runs in the family. I'm the only one out of the four of us who suffers from it, though—the three of us, sorry," she corrects herself. "Anyway, now I'm getting these…fucking nightmares. Of him."

"Of finding him?" Jason asks softly.

She nods, bunching up the hem of her shirt in her fist. "So now it's, uh—harder to sleep. 'Cause I'm scared to." A self-deprecating laugh bursts out of her. "God, I sound stupid."

"No, you don't." He nudges her. "Well, why don't you go on sleeping medication? My mom used it, to help with her BPD."

"But what if it doesn't stop the nightmares?"

Jason shrugs. "Doesn't hurt to try."

She dwells on that. "Maybe I'll ask a doctor about it, then," she murmurs.

Jason goes back to his cigarette, burning it to the filter. When he's done, he drops it on the grass and stamps it out with his heel. "Hey. Want me to test you on some Latin?"

Annabeth jerks back into real life, once again reminded of the test she'll be sitting in a few days. "Oh. Yeah, thanks." They sit there for another hour, going over the dozens of Latin conjugations Annabeth needs to learn. Finally, a car pulls up on the road beside their park bench. The window catches the light as it rolls down, and a girl with cropped black hair and a tattoo curling up the side of her neck leans out. She honks the car horn. "Jason, get in! We're gonna be late."

"Coming," Jason shouts back. He stands up from the bench, slinging his backpack on. "See you tomorrow, yeah? Don't forget—we've gotta finish our project."

"I'll be there," she answers. The car door closes, and Annabeth is alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annabeth and jason's friendship is everything to me right now aha. and percy comforting annabeth? exquisite. next chapter will be a little longer, and it'll be up on wednesday as usual!
> 
> btw, thank you so much for the response to last chapter—I really appreciate all your comments! let me know what you thought of this one :D


	14. for sanity

Freshman year of high school passes like a blur, fading like a half-developed photograph. Annabeth clings to her friends for sanity, trying to block out thoughts of her dad as best she can. One night, she realises suddenly and frantically that she can't remember his voice. She phones Percy to distract herself, trying not to feel too awful about waking him at three in the morning. Words bleary and slurred with sleep, he waves off her apologies.

Percy's never said it, but Annabeth knows he spent money on a burner phone from Target just so she could contact him whenever she needs someone to talk to. Even though the gesture seems like nothing, it means a lot.

When Annabeth mentions her lack of sleep to Helen, she books her a medical appointment. "I'm sure they'll have something to help," Helen reassures her, but there's a blank look in her eyes when she says it. Helen's had that look about her lot, recently. Annabeth doesn't know what to do about it except talk to her, hug her, ask to watch a movie together. She can't lose another parent. She won't.

The doctor starts Annabeth off on a small, daily dose of Zolpidem. "We'll monitor its effect on your insomnia for a few weeks. If we're not seeing results, we'll try moving you onto a higher dose. Sound okay?" She smiles at Annabeth through her silver, square glasses. "Right, I'll draw you up a prescription."

For the first few weeks, the medication barely does anything. The doctor's reluctant to try the higher doses, but it quickly becomes apparent that it'll be necessary. And that helps a bit, but the side effects are almost as bad as her insomnia. Almost.

Sometimes, she'll phone Percy before she goes to sleep. He always picks up. She'll talk to him while the sleeping meds kick in, let him tell her about everything from the cars he's been working on to the graphic novels he's been reading. "I've never understood why you like comics so much," she says, cutting in while he rambles about the series he's just finished.

"You're crazy. They're _way_ better than reading normal books," he insists. "It's like…like watching a good movie with subtitles on."

She smiles. The muscles of her face feel sluggish—they always do after she takes her meds for the night. "I still like books more," she murmurs.

There's a shuffling sound on Percy's side of the line, and then the rustle of covers. "My back aches so much from laying on the creeper trolley," he complains. "I hate working at the machine shop."

"You don't, really."

He sighs. "You're probably right. But it's hell on your body."

"You could try some yoga," she says absently, reaching over to her bedside for the book she's been reading: 'The Bell Jar.' It's dark and painful being in Plath's head, but it's nice to read about someone who's hurting in different ways than she is. It tunes her own life into the background, bringing everything out of such sharp focus. "Hey, Percy?" she says suddenly as she reads.

"Yeah?" His voice is static over her phone's speaker.

"Did you do your English homework for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, surprisingly. I got it done on my lunch break."

She yawns. "Good. Just checking, 'cause sometimes you forget."

He laughs. "You mean every time."

"Well, I'm here to remind you." Annabeth stifles another yawn. Her consciousness has become sticky and fluid, a sign that she'll be totally knocked out in the next fifteen minutes or so. "I'm gonna try and sleep now," she tells Percy. "You should, too."

"I know. I've gotta wake up at five for work," he mutters. "Night, Annabeth."

"Goodnight," she answers, then clicks _End Call._ She closes her book, even though she's only made it a few paragraphs down the page. It's easy to turn off the light, to turn onto her left side and close her eyes. She sees her father's broken form as usual, but The Image is distorted and dims a little more with every passing second. Slowly, the Zolpidem overtakes her struggling consciousness.

* * *

"Annabeth!" someone yells from behind her. Annabeth closes her locker and turns around, tucking her Latin folder under an arm. Leo jogs up to her. He places a hand on Annabeth's shoulder, the other on the strap of his bag. There's a streak of ink on his face. "Can I ask you something?"

"What? It's nine in the fucking morning."

"Yeah, I know that." They start walking along the hallway, weaving a path through the bustling flood of students around them. "So. How many people do you think you could fit in your house?"

She stares at him, instantly catching his drift. "You've got to be joking. In what world would I be okay with hosting your birthday party?"

He gives her puppy eyes. "Please? I'll buy you a milkshake at the diner later."

Annabeth pretends to think about it. "One milkshake would definitely make up for all the broken furniture and vomit-y carpet."

"Don't be so sarcastic," he mutters. "Fine. I'll find somewhere else. You'll come, though, won't you?"

"Why would I wanna come to your birthday party?"

She ducks into her classroom, and he yells after her, "I _said_ don't be so goddamn sarcastic!"

That week, Leo asks Annabeth a few more times about holding his birthday party at her manor. Eventually, her will crumbles and she resolves to ask Helen about it. When she asks, her stepmother only waves a hand and says, "Sure, darling. Not too many people, okay?" Helen never would've agreed to anything of the sort before, and it's unsettling to see her regard the idea of a party that could potentially get out of control with nothing but ambivalence.

Annabeth is almost tempted to say _Actually, never mind,_ but stops herself and murmurs, "Thanks," instead.

Now that she's recognised how far-off and absorbed Helen can get, it's impossible to stop noticing it. She knows Bobby and Matthew also see it, but are too afraid to say anything. Annabeth has to hope that with time, the beautiful and kind person Helen once was will re-emerge from the shell of a body she's become.

Everyone in their year knows Leo, and most people like him. There's something about his humour and charm that can pull you in, though it's easy to miss the dark side to his jokes and sarcasm that often verges on gallows humour. Knowing Leo is not the same as _knowing_ him, though—at least, in the way that Annabeth, Piper and Percy do. Still, he doesn't seem to mind it. In fact, he seems to enjoy holding attention and always entertaining, entertaining, entertaining. It's not that Leo isn't genuine—of course he is. It's just that his dark authenticity is hidden behind a bright, opalescent personality.

Leo's birthday soon rolls around. He and Annabeth spend the whole week planning; they spend hours compiling a playlist to be played over Bobby's sound system, enlist the help of Piper and Percy to spread the word, and pour blood, sweat and tears into moving around Annabeth's furniture to create space. They even string up outdoor lights throughout the expanse of Annabeth's garden. "No one's allowed in my room, though," she warns him. "And if my house gets trashed, I'm holding _you_ responsible."

He grins. "Don't worry. I haven't invited anyone who'd do that—I think." Somehow, Annabeth isn't reassured.

On Saturday night, Annabeth tries to quell her anxiety about the entire affair by getting ready early. Of course, Leo arrives before the party starts. He sits, cross-legged, on her bed and goes over their playlist one last time. Annabeth's already changed into the dark blue, silky dress she found online. Now, she's working product into her uncooperative curls. She mutters, "Why does my hair have to be so goddamn frizzy?"

"It looks fine to me," he tells her. "Just leave it alone. Christ."

Frustrated, she runs a hand through it one final time before opening her drawer and taking out a few makeup products. She asked Helen to show her how to use them, but the only response she got was a nonchalant, "Maybe tomorrow, dear." Still, online tutorials existed. Annabeth made do. She leans closer to her mirror and brushes her faint, blonde brows into shape with some gel, then fills them out a little with a brow pencil.

Behind her, Leo looks up. "Hey, what's that?"

"Makeup. Duh."

He watches as she begins to conceal her under-eyes. "I've never seen anyone put it on before."

She glances back, a little surprised that he's even interested. "It's pretty easy. I've been practising."

"Oh." He goes back to their playlist. "Should I add some Amy Winehouse? Does anyone we know even listen to her?"

Attention fixed on blending in her concealer, she says distractedly, "Add _Me and Mr. Jones_."

"Yeah, alright." Silence hangs between them for a few moments as they each focus on their respective projects, but it's not long before Leo butts in again. "What about Bon Iver?"

"We said nothing depressing. Remember?"

"Fine," he mutters, thumbs tapping on the screen of his phone as he adds a few more songs to the playlist. Finished with her concealer, Annabeth opens the cheap eyeshadow palette she bought in town and dips her brush into a blue, metallic shade that matches her dress. "Piper just texted. She and Percy will be here in a minute."

"Alright," she answers. In the reflection of the mirror, Leo puts his phone down. His curiosity flickers back to Annabeth's face as she starts applying blue pigment to her eyelids like they do in the tutorials. She spins around, hands on her hips. "Okay, what?"

"Nothing."

"Seriously! Do I look weird with makeup on? Should I take it off?"

Waving his hands, he quickly protests, "No, no. It's just…" He swallows. "Can you..."

"Can I what?"

He braces himself, and the following words all come out in a rush. "Can you do my eyeshadow like that?"

And hell, Annabeth hadn't been expecting that. She grins, already excited. "Okay. Sure."

It doesn't take long. Leo sits entirely still from start to finish, the perfect subject. And he _never_ sits still—it's weird. Carefully, she dusts a gold shimmer over his lids. It's simple enough that the gold is only noticeable when it catches the light. "Wow, this shade really suits your skin tone," she muses.

Leo's barely said anything the whole time, which is also uncharacteristic of him. He turns his face left and then right, eyes glued to his likeness in the mirror. "Huh," he breathes.

"So, what do you think?" she asks, furtive. His expression is vacant, unreadable.

"I don't know," he says quietly. "I think I like it." He looks at her, then. "Is that bad?"

She hates the uncertainty in his voice, hates that he thinks he's not allowed to like it. "Of course it's not bad! Fucking hell. You look amazing." Unable to stop herself, she throws her arms around him.

He hugs her back, albeit tentatively. "Okay. Okay," he says, as though he's convincing himself. Then he smiles, and the universe falls back into place. "Thanks, Annabeth."

* * *

The party quickly reaches full swing. Annabeth gets a lot of compliments on her estate, comments which, for the first time, make her feel empty. She hasn't done anything to deserve it. It's already dark when most of the guests arrive, and the outdoor bulbs hanging like fireflies in her garden illuminate the space in a strange, ethereal way. The playlist she and Leo spent so long creating works wonders—everyone's mood is easily lifted. The partygoers become one singular entity, dancing and laughing together.

Percy stays at Annabeth's side, looking almost overwhelmed by everything. "There's so many people here," he says to her. "I didn't realise Leo even _knew_ this many people."

"I know. It's crazy," Annabeth agrees, refilling her glass of punch from the table they've got set up outside. There's a scarlet bruise below Percy's jaw that he won't stop touching. Before she can think better of it, she reaches up and tugs his hand away. "Hey, stop that. You're gonna irritate it."

His gaze snaps back to her, like he hadn't even realised what he'd been doing. "Sorry. I just—"

"Fell off your skateboard?" When he's hurt, that's what he always tells her. Annabeth's starting to think he gets into fights or something, and just doesn't want to tell her.

He looks blank for an almost imperceptible second before shaking his head. "Nah. Got hit by a soccer ball in PE."

"Oh." Annabeth wants to press but decides against it. "Wanna go inside where the music's louder?"

"Yeah. It's cold out here, anyway." The two of them head up the path. On the front door, a sign hangs on the front door that reads _NO THROWING UP INSIDE_ in scrawled Sharpie lettering. Annabeth squeezes her eyes shut when she walks up the steps like she always does, reminding herself to breathe. Her dad's not here tonight; she knows he's not. But in her head, it still feels like a lie.

Her house has been taken over by a writhing, chaotic mass of bodies. Most people are dancing, while some relax on the couches, chatting. Someone grabs Annabeth's sleeve and yells, "Nice house!"

"Thanks," she answers on instinct, barely even registering who spoke. She and Percy cut a path towards the kitchen, where strips of LED lights flash in colourful, pulsing ultraviolet. Inside, people are screaming the lyrics to the song that's playing, and the tiles beneath their feet are sticky with spilled beer. To Annabeth's disappointment—but not to her surprise—Leo's bouncing up and down on her kitchen island with a few people from their school. His clothes are dishevelled, but his eyeshadow's still completely intact. He looks happy, drunk and utterly distracted.

"Leo!" Percy shouts, trying to be heard over the din. Leo doesn't notice them at first, but he jerks around when Percy yells his name again.

He bursts into a sloppy grin when he sees them, stumbling down from the table without much grace. "This is so cool, right?"

Annabeth smiles, easily infected by his enthusiasm. "Yeah. It's better than I could've imagined."

He points at her. "You look like you need something to drink."

She exchanges a glance with Percy, holding back a laugh. "Well, I've already had punch."

"Ha, ha. Very funny," Leo tells her. "We've mixed up some vodka and lemon, so you can have some of that. I think Kirsten's got it." He turns around, yelling, "Kirsten!"

Annabeth's reluctant to drink, as she needs to make sure the party doesn't get too out of control. Still, Percy convinces her that it's fine. "Don't worry. I'm staying sober anyway 'cause I've got work tomorrow. You can let your hair down if you want." Annabeth will never understand how he always manages to reassure her whenever she's uncertain—every single time.

After Annabeth's had a couple glasses of vodka mix, she allows herself to let loose a little. She dances with Percy, moving in tandem with the frenzied crowd as the universe melts away around them. He twirls her around jokingly, and she devolves into helpless laughter. Deliriously, she decides that this is the happiest she's felt in a long time.

Eventually, they tire of dancing and stand at the side to talk. "I think I've got motion sickness," Percy groans, clutching his stomach.

"Same," she agrees, leaning against the wall for stability. Her vision's rose-tinted and beautifully blurred. "Dunno why I let Leo convince me to have a drink. Vodka does _not_ agree with me."

Percy snorts. "Seems like it agrees with you plenty well."

She swats him. "Shut up." Still, she can't fight off a smile. Suddenly, Percy's attention has snagged on something across the room. "What?" she asks, following his gaze. Piper and Jason are standing together, laughing. Her brown cheeks are flushed, and she's talking animatedly. "I knew it," Annabeth says, nudging Percy. "She goes on about him all the time. Plus, there's no way you can write songs together and not fall at least a little bit in love."

Percy shakes his head with a grin. "They're literally just talking—stop making assumptions." But as he says it, Jason leans in and whispers something into Piper's ear, making her squeal and shove him away. Annabeth bursts out laughing. Percy sighs. "Fine, maybe I was wrong," he admits.

As everyone progressively gets drunker, her house stinks increasingly of alcohol and dozens more cups are littered across the floor. At one point, Annabeth glances out into the garden to see two guys standing in the shadows. One of them is Leo, waving a can of cider around as he talks. She watches as the guy he's standing with leans forward, hand slipping into Leo's curly hair. When Leo kisses him, Annabeth quickly tears her gaze away. Even drunk, she knows when something isn't meant for anyone else to see.

Eventually, the night bleeds away into whatever it was meant to be before the party became alive; exhaustion and long-broken curfews overcome the desire to stay out into the morning hours. The last of the guests trickle out, leaving the five of them collapsed together on a couch. "Can we all stay here tonight, Annie?" Piper asks. "I can't be bothered to walk home."

Head in Piper's lap, Jason blearily says, "Seconded."

"Yeah, that's fine," Annabeth answers. "Helen won't give a shit. I'll lay some sleeping mats out in my room."

Leo glances over from where he's lying on the floor. "Works for me. I just wanna pass out," he slurs.

Percy's leaning tiredly on Annabeth's shoulder. His hair tickles her cheek, soft yet rife with split ends. Somehow, his warmth is even more intoxicating than the vodka in her system. Annabeth both can't stand it and never wants him to move. "So, you're the first one of us to turn fifteen," he says to Leo. "How's it feel?"

Leo throws an arm over his face. "Enlightening," he mutters. The others laugh, but Annabeth is silent. She's the only one with an inkling regarding what he might mean.

"I'm glad," Annabeth offers. Her words ring quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! the party scene was super fun to write. next chapter will be up on sunday as usual, and I'm so excited for you guys to read it! let me know what you thought in the comments :D


	15. all our delusions

Before now, Percy has never known what it is to see someone he loves hurting. It's always been his own problems he's had to deal with, his own shitty experiences to compartmentalise into neat boxes and then shove back into the recesses of his brain. For this reason, most of his memories of days in the trailer are hazy and out-of-focus. But he has no idea what to do with the knowledge that Annabeth is in pain—she's hurting, and he can't help her.

So he cycles to her house and gives her his jacket. So he talks to her for hours on the phone until she falls asleep. So he offers himself up as a buffer against her exhausted, aching grief.

It's impossible for Percy to even imagine losing a parent he truly loves. How _can_ he understand Annabeth's loss when Gabe is all the family he has? He never knew his mom, the woman who'd once been married to his stepdad—and despite Percy's questions, despite his desperation to find out _something_ from Gabe about her, he's never breathed a word to Percy. His mother is an unknown, latent concept: a fantasy that could never belong to him.

Two days after Leo's birthday party, Percy's finishing up his evening shift in the machine shop. As she so often is, Annabeth's keeping him company. He no longer knows if she stays for his sake, or her own. She's sitting on the receipt cabinet, legs crossed, while he works on closing the shop. "Did you listen to that playlist I sent you?" she asks, chin propped up on her fist.

His lip quirks as he closes Lucy's box of tools and slides it onto the top shelf. "Only a few songs—I haven't really had much time. I like it so far, though."

"You should get some headphones, so you can listen to music while you work," Annabeth muses. "Oh! Maybe I'll get you some for your birthday."

He grins, grabbing his jacket from the desk. "It wouldn't be a surprise now, though."

"Please," she says, rolling her eyes. "It's not August for ages. You'll have forgotten by next week, anyway."

"That's probably true," he admits, shrugging his jacket on. It's soft, worn leather, and the nicest thing he owns. Helen gave it to him a year ago. She said she got it from a charity shop, but Percy doesn't quite believe her. "Come on, let's get out of here."

After Percy locks up, they stand outside for a while. It's a nice night; the stars have come out, and the air's fairly warm for spring. In the dim light, Annabeth looks soft and blurry around the edges. Hands deep in the pockets of her windbreaker, she closes her eyes and sighs contentedly. "I like it out here. Let's not go home just yet."

Percy looks around, and an idea comes to him. "Alright. Follow me." He leads her across the machine shop's courtyard, taking off his jacket as he walks. He arrives at the car he's working on—an old model, with a large, flat hood. There are a dozen problems with the engine, and it's taking Percy a while to fix. He lays his jacket out on the hood, then turns around and smiles at Annabeth. "Wanna lay here and stargaze?"

She bounds forward, excited, and leans back on the hood. Her hair pillows out around her head: a blonde halo. Expectant, she pats the space next to her. "Come on, then. What are you waiting for?"

Laughing, he lays down on the hood beside her. Its metal surface is cold, but Annabeth's shoulder is warm against his own. The view is even better than he envisaged; his vision is nothing but a sprawling expanse of gleaming stars. "Wow," he breathes. "I never realised the stars were so pretty in Virginia."

"Yeah. It's beautiful." Annabeth's silent for a moment, and the passing of time is measured only by their breathing. "Wanna know something?"

"What?"

"I kinda think we're all crazy."

He laughs, surprised. "You haven't started smoking crack without me, have you?"

"Not yet," she smiles. "But seriously. Think about it. What makes someone crazy?"

He considers it. "Uh…having delusions? Making shit up? Losing your grip on reality?"

"But what _is_ reality?" she asks. "Our society, right? But what are we without it? What's the point of all our pointless rituals, all the things we do because we've always done them? Get married, go to school, elect politicians? We made up these concepts, and they dictate our lives. They're only real within the context of society. So, aren't we all deluded, by logic?" She pauses. "I dunno. I need to think about it more."

Percy's less logical than Annabeth, but he understands what she's saying. "It's more like—we're misled. Deceived." He pauses. "Then again, some people say that the way we each perceive the world is totally different. So, maybe we _are_ all crazy. To other people, at least."

He tilts his head. Annabeth's expression is vacant, and she stares up into the vast sky. "I think I'm crazy, nowadays," she murmurs.

Percy props himself up on his elbow to look at her, brows furrowed. "Hey. No, you're not."

She doesn't look at him. "I'm exhausted, even with the meds. I'm sleeping so little that I can't even process my days. There's so many fake memories in my head, and I've got no idea which ones are real." She lets out a breath. "I can't even talk to Helen about it. She's somewhere else, locked inside her mind most of the time. She's a zombie. I have to sort everything out for Bobby and Matthew in her place." At long last, she meets Percy's eyes. "I think my dad's death broke her."

Percy feels like the breath's been punched out of him. He already knew some of this, but not all of it. "Annabeth. Why didn't you say anything before?"

"'Cause I feel useless." She looks away again, a cornered animal. "'Cause there's nothing to be done. 'Cause there's no point worrying you for no reason."

Percy sits up, unsure why he's so angry. "Who cares if you worry me?" he gets out. "I want to help."

"What can you do, then?"

"I don't know. But your shit still matters to me."

Annabeth locks eyes with him. "Why?"

" _Why_? Because I'm your best friend, you idiot!" He shakes his head, frustrated. "You can talk to me."

Annabeth scrubs the heels of her palms over her face. "I'm being stupid, aren't I?"

He pokes her. "Nah. You just overthink too much. You're not stupid—you're too smart for your own good."

She grins back at him. "You think so?"

He rolls his eyes, and mutters, "Fucking hell. What kind of question is that?" He lays back down again, feeling drained—in a good way, though. "Hey, Annabeth?"

"Yeah?"

He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again. "This feels unfair."

"What does?"

"That you've told me about your shit, but I haven't said anything in return."

"Not everything has to be transactional."

"Well, some things are."

A siren sounds in the distance, brash and wailing. "Yeah, some things. Like buying food, getting a haircut. Not everything, though. Not this."

That's not how Percy understands life. He takes a deep breath. "Do you want to know why I'm saving money?"

"Percy, you don't need to—"

"Seriously," he interrupts. There's an imbalance between them, and Percy doesn't like being responsible for it. "I'll tell you, if you want."

She watches him. "Well, I'm curious. But you don't have to."

Swallowing down his fear, he says, "I'm saving up to move out."

She looks confused. "Move out? So you're saving for college?"

"Not exactly." The silence that follows is thick and tangible. He braces himself. "I'm gonna move as soon as I can. In high school, hopefully. My stepdad's an asshole. The trailer…" He's careful not to say too much, to prevent Annabeth from connecting the dots completely. "I hate it there."

Annabeth's jaw clenches. "I kind of gathered that. From knowing you." She reaches out and touches his arm, a steadying force. "You're okay, though? If you weren't, you'd tell me. Right?"

His chest hurts. He has to lie. "Right. I'd tell you."

"Okay," she whispers. "That's good, then." She takes his sleeve and pulls him closer to her, and Percy's world bleeds into beautiful focus. How did they end up here, pouring out their feelings on the hood of a broken sedan?

* * *

The truth is that fear is ingrained within Percy's sinews unlike anything else. It's become so deeply part of him that it's burrowed into his demeanour, his mannerisms, everything that can be seen from the outside. He tries as hard as he can to hide it, but nothing could be less simple than that.

He's sitting on the floor of his room in the trailer, back against the door. It's late. His stomach is twisted into a knot of hunger, but he doesn't want to try the kitchen. A sort of pale blankness hangs over his mind, but he doesn't mind. It's been a while since he's moved. He's no longer sure if he wants to.

In the hallway, he hears a thump and a muttered curse. Percy closes his eyes, pensive, as Gabe walks into his own room and shuts the door. _Thank God._ He rests his head back against the door, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling. Did there used to be so many cracks there? For a while, he imagines tracing the intricate lines with a fingertip. He's tired; he doesn't want to wake up for work in the morning. Briefly, he entertains the impossible idea of sleeping all day tomorrow—the idea of letting his body rest.

He stands up, knees stiff. Wishful thinking is dangerous thinking.

After brushing his teeth and pulling on a warm hoodie to sleep in, his burner phone buzzes with a text from Rachel. _Come outside_ , it reads. Curious, he peers through his blinds to look out his trailer window. Rachel's sitting at a bench with Jane, an older girl from their trailer park. From here, he can see the glowing spark of a blunt between Jane's fingertips.

Careful not to make much too much noise, Percy laces up his trainers and unlatches his window, climbing out of it. When Gabe's been drinking, he sleeps like the dead—Percy doubts his stepdad would hear anything even if he left out the fucking front door.

"Hey, Percy. You came," Rachel greets him. She's sitting at the short end of the bench, where there's space to fit her wheelchair. Her eyes have a dull, reddish sheen to them. Jane's sitting with her legs crossed, trainers bright white in the dark. Her shit's laid out in front of her: a grinder, a lighter, some silver papers.

"'Course I did," he smiles. "You alright, Jane?"

When she nods, her dark, curly hair bobs around her chin. It's unevenly cut, but so is everyone else's who lives here. "Yeah." Raising the blunt to her lips, she inhales and draws the smoke down into her lungs. It billows out around them. Percy knows the smell will undoubtedly cling to his clothes, but he can't bring himself to care. "Want a toke?" Jane asks, offering it to him.

"Thanks." He takes a drag, then another. The smoke is only slightly biting, and washes into his system like lukewarm water. He rarely smokes with the kids in his trailer park, and tries not to become too attached to the beautifully senseless feeling it can give him. The guilt is still there—it's not the same as alcohol, which so often equates to bruises, but Percy can't quite separate the two substances entirely. He passes the blunt back to Jane.

"So, Jackson," she says, accent even more fluidly Southern than Percy's. "What's your deal?"

"My deal?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Jane grins sharply at him. "I mean, why do you look so fucking sad?"

Percy hums. "Because we're all marching slowly towards an inevitable death, of course. Why else?"

She shakes her head, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Touché."

Rachel groans. "Can y'all lighten up a bit? I'm trying _not_ to think about death right now. Christ."

"Sorry," Jane says, passing the blunt to her. "He's rubbing off on me."

Percy laughs. "That's rich, coming from you."

She raises a pierced brow. "Damn. Anyone ever tell you that you're abrasive?"

"What the fuck does 'abrasive' mean?" Percy mutters, but it's hard to be irritated right now. His thoughts are slowing down pleasantly, and the world is blurring slightly. Suddenly, he remembers something. "Rach, how'd your physio appointment go today?"

Rachel doesn't respond for a moment. She cups a hand around the end of their blunt to protect it from the cold breeze, carefully lighting the end with Jane's blue Clipper. The flame's reflected for a moment in her pale eyes, a phantom in the darkness. "It was alright," she murmurs. "Right now, they're just trying to stop my calves from atrophying. There's no point, though—it's not like I can use them, anyway."

Jane nudges her, concerned. "Hey, don't talk like that. There's a point to it. Maybe you can save up for surgery, once you get out of here."

" _If_ I get out of here," Rachel corrects her. It doesn't sound like a joke. She laughs to herself, as though she said something funny. Percy can do nothing but watch as she has another drag, unsure what to say. He understands her fears—of course he does—but telling yourself that everything will be okay is an entirely different battle than trying to tell someone else. What's left to hope for, in a place like this?

The three of them sit there until the blunt burns down to the roach, voices quieter than their rose-tinted thoughts. Percy wonders if, stuck here, they've lost something more than their sobriety.

* * *

Percy's class is let out of school early the next day. He waits outside for the others by the bike rack, one hand on the handlebar of his own. Stifling a yawn, he realises how tired he's become from rising early and working late. The thought of getting to crash later is the only motivation he has left to get through the day.

Pulling his burner phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, he checks his texts. He opens one from Lucy that checks he's alright with working some paid overtime on the week to help get some tricky jobs finished, and quickly replies with his assent. There's several from Annabeth, too. He clicks on the message thread.

14:20 - _Jason just spilt coffee all over Miss Ellis' desk, what an idiot_

14:20 - _pray for him lmao_

14:22 - S _urprise surprise, she didn't even give him detention. why can't I be her favourite student :'(_

Percy smiles to himself, responding: _how could you expect her to resist those eyes?_ Then, _are you out of class yet?_ Just as he flips his phone shut, someone yells his name from the school's entrance. "Jackson!"

He looks up to see Piper and Leo walking out of school together, already heading over. He grins, waving at them. "Hey, guys."

Leo grins. "What's up?" He bends to unlock his bike, fiddling with the chain. His short fingernails are painted black, matching the smear of eyeliner on his lids. These things are recent developments that have come around since his birthday party. Percy can tell it's given Leo some newfound confidence, a way to express his personality. It's bled into all the other aspects of him; recently, he's seemed brighter—happier. More whole, in a way.

"I just had a Chemistry test. It did _not_ go well," Piper tells Percy, adjusting the strap of her shoulder bag. "What the fuck is metallic bonding? I should've studied."

"What? That test was easy," Leo protests, wheeling his bike away from the rack. "I literally had it yesterday."

Giving him a dirty look, she shoots back, "Well, I'm sorry for not being naturally smart like _you_."

Leo preens. "Apology accepted."

Piper swats him as Percy laughs. He asks, "How was music practice? Is your new song coming along okay?"

Piper tilts her hand in a _so-so_ motion. "Yeah, it was alright. We've started recording, but I'm not sure I'm happy with the lyrics yet. Jason and I are gonna work on it later."

He smiles. "Cool. Can we hear it when it's done?"

"Of course—when I'm happy with it."

"You're such a perfectionist," Leo groans. "It'd be nice to actually get to hear a finished song, for once." Piper's notorious for spending ages on songs until she thinks they're perfect. It's sort of endearing.

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, shut up."

More students are flooding out of the gates now, and among them Percy spots a familiar head of curly blonde hair. She's deep in conversation with Jason, who's walking beside her. "Annabeth! Over here," Percy calls, drawing her attention to where the three of them are standing.

Annabeth weaves through the crowd up to them, closely followed by Jason. She's smiling, animated and excited. "Percy. Guess what?"

"What?" he asks.

She grins, bouncing up and down. "Okay, okay. You know how I submitted one of my photography series to a magazine competition last month?"

Her excitement is infectious. "Uh huh?"

"I won!" she screeches. "I'm so fucking excited. My work's gonna be in a magazine!"

Percy gapes. "Oh, my God. No way."

"Yes, way," Jason cuts in, beaming. "It's such a cool photo series, too. Miss Ellis nearly had a breakdown when Annabeth told her."

Percy throws his arms around her, grinning. "That's incredible. You're incredible," he says to Annabeth fervently. The others pile into the messy hug, congratulating her.

She pushes them away, laughing. "Thanks, guys. It's a start."

"A start? Stop being modest," Piper accuses her. "You'll be a famous photographer in no time."

"We'll see," Annabeth says, but her cheeks are blush-stained and she's smiling, smiling, smiling.

The five of them end up in a cramped booth at _The Winehouse_ , smoothies on the table in front of them. Annabeth ordered a Belgian chocolate monstrosity, topped with whipped cream—and Percy can't seem to stop himself from glancing at it. He bought a coffee because it was the cheapest thing on the menu, but now he's finished it and aching for carbs. He hasn't eaten since before his morning shift at Lucy's auto shop.

Annabeth notices him eyeing her drink. "You wanna share it?" she asks. "I don't mind."

He shakes his head, biting back the immediate _Yes_ that becomes lodged in his throat. "Nah, I'm okay."

"I think we need to rework the chorus," Piper muses to Jason. She's leaning on his shoulder, looking at the lyrics sheet on his phone. They murmur to each other, working out the kinks of their new song. They're a great team, and Percy can tell they like each other. Still, Piper's admitted to Percy that she doesn't know if they'd ever last together—they're both too headstrong. He supposes at least Piper might get some good music out of whatever's between her and Jason.

Leo raises a hand to a waitress as she passes. "Hey, uh. Could I get some ketchup for these curly fries?"

She smiles, bemused. "Sure."

"Thanks," he calls, shaking salt over them. When Annabeth reaches for one, he shoots her a menacing glare and drags the plate closer to him. "You'd better think twice before stealing my damn fries."

"I would never," she insists, faux-innocent. When Leo isn't looking, she leans forward one and quickly shoves one into her mouth.

"Wow," Percy comments dryly. "You're a woman of your word, huh?" At that, Annabeth winks.

It's late when they stumble out of the diner, elated and laughing. "God, I can't believe you said that to her," Piper groans. "Have you actually got a death wish?"

Leo laughs. His eyeliner's slightly smudged, but the look somehow works. "What? Mrs Jameson is a twat, and she deserves to know." He unlocks his bike and swings a leg over it. "I've gotta go. Jeanne will have my head if I'm late for dinner again." He kicks off the curb, weaving nimbly between cars as he cycles away.

Across the road, Thalia leans out the window of her car. Her hair's been recently buzzed, shaved almost to her scalp. "Am I driving your girlfriend home again?" she yells to Jason. "'Cause if I am, you two better hurry up."

"She's not my girlfriend," Jason mumbles, cheeks red.

Piper just laughs. "Come on," she tells him, threading her arm through his as they step off the sidewalk together.

Percy crouches to unlock his own bike, struggling for a second to turn the combination dials with cold hands. "Do you want a lift home?" he asks Annabeth over his shoulder. She's lost in thought as she stares into the distance, skirt rippling around her knees. The one she's wearing is a burnt-orange colour, and has lacy butterfly details around the hem. Annabeth has always dressed conservatively: a by-product of her religious upbringing. Now, she still rarely shows her knees, but dresses as haphazardly as she can. Percy likes it. Then again, he likes a lot of things about her. "Annabeth?" he prods.

Annabeth turns to him, jolted out of some far-off reality. He wonders what goes on in her head, sometimes. She gives him a halfway-smile. "Yeah, thanks. If that's okay."

As they cycle, the wind tears cruelly across Percy's cheeks. He's freezing in only his jacket, but the warmth of Annabeth's arms around his waist is enough. Eventually, they reach Annabeth's estate. She climbs off his bike. "I'm never gonna get tired of that."

"Neither will I," he answers. They grin at each other.

Annabeth has a strange look on her face. "Percy," she starts, then pauses. "I've been thinking."

"About what?" he asks, apprehensive.

"About…about what you told me. About why you're saving money."

Immediately, anxiety washes into Percy's stomach. "Okay," he says slowly.

She pulls her sleeves down over her knuckles, shutting her eyes for a second. When she speaks, she blows it all out in one breath. "You should come live at my estate."

He stiffens. "What?"

Annabeth reaches out, as though afraid he might run away. "Please. I know you don't get on with your stepdad, that you hate it at the trailer park. Or I could lend you money from my trust fund for an apartment—"

Percy interrupts her, sickened that she doesn't even know all of it. "I told you about that so we'd be _even,_ Annabeth. Not for—not for charity."

"It's not charity! It's just me caring about you. Please," she repeats. "Let me help. I can _help._ This is the one thing I can do, the one thing I'm good for." Unexplainable anger seizes him. He knows her heart's in the right place, but she's so blinded by everything. What the hell does she understand? He's survived this long, and now it means everything that he walks out of the fucking trailer himself. "Percy…"

"I don't want your help," he says quietly, squashing down the rising, white-hot anger that threatens to burn them both. A little louder, he repeats, "I don't need you."

There are tears in Annabeth's eyes. "But I can help."

"God, I've gotta leave," he says subconsciously, more to himself than her.

"Percy, I can—"

"Shut up!" he shouts, and immediately flinches away from himself. There's fear in her eyes, and suddenly he's become everything he's afraid of becoming. "Sorry. I'm sorry," he mumbles, stepping onto his pedal.

"Wait," she tries desperately. Percy kicks off as hard as he can, hating himself with a newfound vindication. He's terrified of this side of himself, terrified of the foul anger that his stepfather has seared into him like a brand. Most of all, he's terrified that it won't ever go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who wants to come lay on the hood of a car with me and talk about life? xD thanks for reading, I'd love to hear what you thought! as usual, the next chapter will be up on wednesday.


	16. cruel truths and keepsakes

Annabeth wishes she could understand what drove Percy to react so explosively. The horror in his eyes when she'd offered to let him stay at her estate, or even lend him the money for an apartment, had been insurmountable. And the rage in his voice when she pressed…In that moment, she wasn't afraid of _him_. Not exactly. It was something deeper than that.

Now, she's terrified of losing him, that she might've already lost him. When they argued, he became a deer in the headlights and cycled away like he couldn't bear to look at her.

Recently, Annabeth's sleeping pills have been becoming less and less effective. Her doctor thinks it's possible she's already built up a tolerance. But rather than upping the dose, she's moved Annabeth onto a different medication: Triazolam. The shift is making Annabeth paranoid. All she sees when she closes her eyes is her father's bleeding body, crumpled over the steps like some sickening parody of a corpse. The counsellor she's been seeing tells her that The Image will fade over time, but if anything, it's only growing more vivid.

Annabeth's been having dreams again, too. Her nightmares are back in full force now that she's off Zolpidem, and they're as awful as they ever were. Every fucking time she'll manage to fight through her insomnia and fall asleep, she'll only wake bitterly in a cold sweat, screaming her lungs hoarse. Without fail, The Image always stains her thoughts.

Annabeth wonders how she's not used to this by now. She's staring up at her ceiling, quilt pulled up to her chin. A shaft of hazy moonlight falls through a crack in her blinds, spilling onto her bed. Tonight, her mind dwells less on her father than it does on Percy. She's texted him dozens of times, each apology an echo of the last. She desperately wishes he would just _talk_ to her, tell her what she did wrong—so she never has to hurt her best friend again.

Annabeth finds herself returning to their conversation outside the auto shop in her waking moments, of which she has an abundance. _I'm gonna move out as soon as I can,_ he told her. _My stepdad's an asshole. The trailer…I hate it there._ She replays his words over and over with a religious kind of fervour, hoping that maybe she'll glean something new. There's something else he's hiding—she's sure of it. But hell if she'll push Percy any further, hurt him any more than she already has.

She turns onto her side, hands curling under her pillow. It's the hardest thing in the world to close her eyes, and harder still to hope for sleep.

* * *

In the morning when she brushes her teeth, Annabeth averts her eyes from the bathroom mirror. When her under-eye bags are this dark and noticeable, she avoids her reflection like the plague. It's easier, this way. She changes into some comfortable clothes, thankful that it's a Saturday so she doesn't have to think about school.

Downstairs, Helen's asleep on the pull-out bed; she never sleeps in her and Frederick's old bedroom. Annabeth kind of gets it. She probably couldn't cope with the thought of a ghostly imitation of her father sleeping beside her at night, either. "Helen," she calls softly. She doesn't stir, so Annabeth carefully closes the door to the living room to let her sleep a while longer.

Helen would usually be up by noon, but she never does anything in the days anymore. Annabeth hasn't stopped trying to get the caring, soft-hearted, intelligent version of her stepmother back, even though it might be easier to give up. Some part of Annabeth refuses to believe Helen was lost the second that bullet went through her dad's brain.

Bobby's in the kitchen playing a video game on his DS, spooning cereal into his mouth almost as fast as his thumb moves on the controller. He looks up when Annabeth passes. "Did you take my soccer strip out of the washing machine?" he asks, his words muffled around a mouthful of Cheerios.

"Yeah, it's hung up in the garage," she says absently. Annabeth doesn't mind helping out with Bobby and Matthew, especially now that Helen's often out of commission. She stifles a yawn, pouring herself a bowl of cereal. As she pours the milk, she can't stop thinking about whether she should go and talk things out with Percy face-to-face or give him some space. The feeling of uncertainty is a foreign one to Annabeth, and it's disquieting.

Once she's finished with breakfast, she shoots a text to Leo. _Can I come round? I kind of need to talk to someone._ Out of all her friends, Annabeth knows Leo is the least likely to turn her down. She pins her hair into a messy bun and pulls on shoes, already out the door by the time Leo responds with a thumbs-up.

It's a cool spring morning, and the bitter air nips at Annabeth's cheeks as she walks. She puts her earphones in, tucking her knuckles into her sleeves for warmth. Leo's group home is a fair distance away, but it's easy to fall into a fast, rhythmic walk. The music grounds her, a blissful respite from the whirling thoughts in her head.

When Annabeth reaches the group home, she pulls out her earphones and heads into the courtyard. Leo's already standing outside, arguing animatedly with two guys. At first, none of them notice Annabeth. One of the guys steps forward, towering over him by at least a foot. Leo doesn't shrink back, only stands up straighter and balls his hands into fists. "Why do you even care?" Leo's shouting. "Must be a pretty fragile ego you've got there."

"You're an embarrassment, Valdez," the tall guy hisses. He shoves Leo hard in the chest, making him stumble back. "Want me to tell Jeanne you're a fucking fag?"

Leo spits in his face. "At least I'm not a goddamn bully." At that, the second guy rears forward and punches Leo in the gut. He doubles over, winded.

Annabeth screams, "Stop!" In a half-fledged, futile effort to protect him, she runs in front of him as the first guy draws back his fist to punch Leo again—and instead knocks Annabeth across the face. She cries out, staggering.

"Get out the way, blondie," the tall guy sneers. "I don't like hitting girls." From here, she can see that one of his pupils has broken like spilled pitch.

Rage bubbles up in Annabeth's stomach. "What's wrong with you?" she shouts.

Leo's hand finds her arm from behind her, pulling her back. "Annabeth, don't. Let's just go."

Annabeth looks up into the faces of the two guys and wants for all the world to smash their faces in, but reality tells her that she'd only manage to get both Leo and her hurt in the process. "Okay," she says, already stepping back. They turn and sprint towards Leo's bike, already cycling off as the two guys continue to shout obscenities. Annabeth's quickly bruising eye throbs with pain, but it's nothing compared to the anger she feels. "I'm so mad. I'm so mad," she repeats, over and over. Leo brakes into an alleyway and they stumble off his bike, letting it clatter to the cobblestone floor.

He slides down the alley's wall, drawing his knees into his chest. "You shouldn't have done that," he says. His voice has turned empty and blank, shell-shocked.

Annabeth's hands curl into fists as she paces. "What was I supposed to do? They were…they were going to—" She cuts herself off, too horrified to say the rest.

"It was my fault," he mutters. "And it's not like they're wrong."

"Wrong?" she shouts, incredulous. "They tried to beat you up!"

"I know that. God." He looks up at her, then, expression brimming with apologies. "I'm so sorry. Christ, your eye…"

"My eye's fine. I'm worried about _you_." She kneels in front of him, so they're level with each other. "I heard what they said. And I want you to know that there's nothing fucking wrong with you, okay? Nothing." Her voice cracks. "You deserve more."

Leo scrubs his palms over his face, like he can't bear to look at her. "This is so shit. I didn't want you to find out this way," he whispers.

"I didn't."

His head snaps up. "What?"

"That's not how I found out," she says slowly, hating the panic in his eyes. "I saw you kiss that guy in the garden, at your party. I didn't mean to, I swear. But it's okay, Leo," she insists. "It's okay."

He looks tortured. "It's not okay. I'm what they called me," he says, voice cracking. "I'm a fag."

Annabeth's already shaking her head. "No one's a fag, Leo. That's not a descriptor, that's a slur. It's okay that you like guys."

He picks at his nails, at their chipped varnish. "Aren't you mad that I didn't tell you?"

"Of course not." She adds, "You never had to tell me anything, if that isn't what you want."

"It's been eating me up," he admits. "I thought you'd hate me if I ever said anything."

And God, that makes Annabeth's heart hurt. She throws her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. "You're an idiot if you think I could ever hate you," she murmurs.

Leo laughs tiredly. "I know." He hugs her back, burying his head into her shoulder. They cling to each other for a moment longer, seeking warmth.

When Annabeth finally pulls away, it's like pieces of their world have slotted back into place. "Do I have to convince you not to run away?" she asks him. It's an aching question, one that's been asked a thousand times before.

To her surprise, Leo shakes his head. "I think I'll stay," he decides. "If I ran away, I'd probably miss you too much."

"Wow, that's actually pretty sweet."

He swats her. "Don't spread the word—you'll ruin my reputation." Annabeth laughs. Soon, he's laughing with her. "What did you want to talk about?" he asks.

"Oh. I forgot about that," she realises, remembering the text she sent him. "It seems stupid, now."

"I'm sure it's not stupid. Come on, you wanted to talk," he presses.

She sighs, turning around to sit beside him against the wall. "I had an argument with Percy. Looking back, it was dumb—but I'm scared I really hurt him."

"Hurt him how?"

"Well. He told me before how much he wants to leave the trailer, that he's been saving money to move out. I don't know that much about it, but I think he and his stepdad argue a lot." Thinking about it is painful. She stares at the floor, where moss breaks through crumbling mortar. "I said he should come live with me, or I could maybe lend him money to move out. He got upset and he stormed off—he couldn't even look at me." She pauses, resting her chin on her knees. "We've never argued like that before. God, I just wish I knew what I did wrong."

Leo's watching her carefully. "I think you probably hurt his pride. If _I'd_ been saving for years to move out, and someone who's always had money offered to fix the problem just like that…" He trails off, and suddenly Annabeth understands.

"God, I'm the worst," she groans.

"No, you're not," he tells her, unwavering. "You were trying to help. I guess some things just got lost in translation."

"Is it bad that I wish he'd let me fix everything, just like that? Even though it might hurt his pride?" she asks.

"You're human, Annie, not perfect. You can't get everything right all the damn time." He nudges her, smiling. "Even though you think you can."

She rolls her eyes, but her chest still feels heavy. "I'll talk to him," she says. "Once he's had some space. There's no use avoiding each other until everything seems even more broken."

"It'll be okay," Leo murmurs, resting his head on her shoulder. They sit there for a while, minds overtaken by wandering thoughts.

* * *

For the next few days, all Annabeth can think about is Percy. She checks her phone constantly for a text from him, to no avail. Space is all Percy usually needs after an argument, but she knows that he's liable to start blaming himself if left alone long enough.

It's the middle of the night. Annabeth's mind has been at war with itself since the sun went down. She's given up trying to do some chemistry homework for the next day and has fallen back onto her bed. Her white Triazolam bottle on her dresser stands stark in the darkness, an easy solution to the fizzling wires in her mind—but it hasn't done much for the nightmares, lately. It's almost easier to stay awake, to fend off The Image with thoughts of something, _anything_ else.

Helen still hasn't cleared out the master bedroom, won't even allow Annabeth or her brothers inside. Annabeth doesn't know how long her stepmother's going to try keeping whatever pristine image of it she has in her head alive, but she suspects Helen thinks one day she'll open the door and her husband will be sitting on the bed inside, smiling and subsisting.

Lately, Annabeth hasn't been able to fight the urge to go inside. She's already got closure, but now she wants answers. Not answers like why he was shot in the head with an untraceable bullet, not even answers like how all the police and the private investigators hadn't found even a footprint of evidence related to his death. No—she wants to know who her dad was in a life long-ago lived, how he got involved in a crime syndicate and why he left. Had it been for Helen, or even for Annabeth's birth mother?

Annabeth gets to her feet and wraps a nightgown around herself. She knows where she can look. Not the bedroom: the shed, which Frederick used to store all his old stuff. He was the only one who ever used it.

Grabbing a flashlight from her bedside table, Annabeth descends the stairs as quietly as she can and peers into the kitchen. Helen stands at the stove, mindlessly stirring a pot of milk. She looks lifeless and empty. It hurts to see her stepmother like this, a woman who was once so full of warmth. Shaking thoughts of Helen from her head, Annabeth sneaks through the hallway and grabs the key to the garage that hangs by the back door. It creaks on its hinges when she opens it, but the rain's loud enough outside that the sound is virtually unnoticeable.

Annabeth hurries barefoot across the grass, bracing herself against the brutal wind and rain. She fumbles with the shed's lock, struggling to fit the key into it. Finally, it clicks. She swings the door open, closing it behind her with a thump. Heaving a breath, she tucks her sodden hair behind her ear. She turns on her flashlight, sweeping it around the room until she spots a hanging pull cord. When she tugs it, the shed is instantly flooded by dim, yellow light. The rain is loud and jarring, amplified into bullets against the shed's tin roof.

Boxes upon boxes are stacked everywhere. Annabeth starts pulling them out, seized by animal desperation. She wants so badly to know who her father was, if her soft-spoken and geeky father had been nothing but a fucking front. There's toolboxes, photographs, postcards and Christmas lights. Hands shaking, she realises she doesn't even know what she's looking for. Is she crazy?

Suddenly, she finds a box with the word _Keepsakes_ scrawled across the side in Sharpie. It's half-buried and coated in a layer of dust, but she drags it out anyway. She prises off the duct tape and presses the cardboard flaps aside, certain there'll be nothing inside but useless souvenirs and movie ticket stubs. But there's more than that: stacks of photographs, each bound by elastic bands. As Annabeth moves to pick them up, her fingers brush against something smooth and wooden: a jewellery box. She lifts it out, only half-breathing. There's a bronze latch at the front, and she slips her nail under it. Easily as anything, it lifts.

As she opens the jewellery box, Annabeth's lungs seize. Within it lies a shotgun, cushioned on a bed of velvet. The handle is mahogany, and carved almost imperceptibly into the wood with beautiful precision are the words _For F, from A._

Annabeth drops the box, and it clatters harshly onto the shed's stone floor. The gun falls out of it. _From A?_ Swallowing her fear, Annabeth reaches for it. The handle is cool, comfortable to grip. In Annabeth's hand, it feels alien. Who's A? She wishes she knew, wishes she had more context so she could connect the hidden dots. Replacing the gun, she closes the box and exhales.

Behind her, the door creaks. A soft voice calls, "Annabeth?"

She whips her head around, guilt flashing through her like lightning. Her stepmother stands in the doorway, feet bare and hair dripping wet. "Helen?"

"Is that your dad's stuff?" Helen asks. She sounds…confused, maybe. But her eyes are more awake and present than they've been since the funeral.

Annabeth nods. "Yeah. I just—"

"I know." Helen kneels down next to her, taking the box from Annabeth. She sighs, gazing at it. "Your dad had a lot of secrets," she says. "He never told me much about any of it. But I never minded. Who he'd been in the past didn't matter to me; it was who he _was_ that I loved." Helen opens the box, but she doesn't seem interested in the gun. Instead, she removes the velvet cushion and withdraws an old sepia photograph from beneath it. She offers the photograph to Annabeth, who takes it with reverence.

"Who…" Annabeth asks, but trails off. A young man and woman stand in the photograph, and they both look around eighteen. He's grinning from ear to ear, arm looped over her shoulders. To Annabeth's shock, a silver revolver hangs at his waist. Annabeth's breath stutters as she recognises him. "That's Dad," she realises.

Helen smiles quietly. "He was handsome, wasn't he?"

Annabeth's eyes linger on her dad's living, laughing face for a moment longer before flitting to the woman beside him. "And who's that?"

Helen's silent for a moment. "Someone we both knew. Someone…someone he cared for." She looks up, expression fervent. "Don't you recognise her?"

Annabeth looks carefully at the woman. She looks stern, but there's a weightless kind of affection in the tilt of her smile. There's something familiar about her features, in her nose and the curve of her jaw. "I don't know," she whispers.

"She's your mom," Helen tells her softly. "Your birth mother."

Shock, denial, then anger flash through Annabeth like an electric current. "What? Why have you never shown me a photo of her before?" She turns back to the photograph, desperate to feel any kind of attachment to this unknown woman. "She can't be," Annabeth murmurs. "You never even told me her name."

"Her name was Athena," Helen says, as though that three-syllable word isn't enough to shatter Annabeth's reality completely. "Your dad's old girlfriend, back when he was still tangled up in crime."

"You…you knew her?"

"I did. In fact, I'm the one behind the camera." Annabeth's gaze settles on the photograph as she struggles to comprehend the painful truth of Helen's words. "Athena worked with your dad."

"Legitimate work?" Annabeth asks, but she already knows the answer. Her dad would still be alive if all he'd ever been was a fucking pilot. "I'm guessing she's dead, too."

When Helen nods, a new kind of heartache swallows Annabeth up. The crisp photograph falls out of her hand, swaying in slow motions to the floor. Tears prickle her eyes—tears of grief. Still, how can she grieve a mother she never had? Annabeth turns to Helen, but she's distracted by a different photograph. Only her father is in this one, turning over his shoulder to grin cheekily at the camera. They're in an unfamiliar city; it could only have been taken when he and Helen went travelling. Helen's hands shake as she holds the photograph, and Annabeth realises her stepmother is crying. "I miss him," she whispers. "I miss everything we were."

Annabeth slots her arms around Helen, resting her cheek on her shoulder. "I know."

"This isn't fair," her stepmother whispers.

"I know," Annabeth repeats, unable to summon the willpower to say anything else. For a moment, she's fallen back in time to the aftermath of finding her father, to seeking comfort in Helen's arms—except this time, she's the one who needs to be strong.

When they pull apart, the once timeless rain has ceased and a blank visage of non-presence has settled over Helen once again.

* * *

The next day, Annabeth grows tired of constantly checking her phone for a text from Percy. Her guilt is beginning to consume her, and she's worried about him. The trailer park is too far to walk, so she digs her old bike out of the garage and pulls her messy hair up into a ponytail to brave Virginia's winds. Percy never has any shifts on Sunday afternoons—with any luck, he'll be at home. Slipping her earphones in, she sets off at a fast cycle.

She slides off her bike when she reaches the trailer park, wheeling it beside her as she walks along the burnt-grass path. She's rarely ever been here, and every time Percy's been uncomfortable and eager for her to leave. Steeling herself, she approaches his trailer. It's the same as all the others, low-roofed and bleak. The lights are on inside, so she ascends the steps and knocks hesitantly on the door. She waits a few long seconds, then knocks again.

With a click, the door swings open. Percy's standing behind it, hand still resting on the door handle. "Annabeth! What are you doing here?" he hisses, but he seems more anxious than irritated.

"I'm really sorry," she says in a rush. "I shouldn't have—"

She's cut off by a gruff voice from inside shouting, "Who's at the door?"

"A friend from school," Percy quickly calls, then steps outside and closes the door behind him. "You shouldn't be here," he tells her, glancing over his shoulder. Then his gaze locks on Annabeth's face, and he narrows his eyes. "Who did that to you?"

"What?" She reaches up, fingertips brushing her black eye that she's forgotten about. "Oh, it's nothing. Percy, I shouldn't have been so stupid," she continues. "I think I hurt you, and I'm really sorry—"

"Let's not talk here," he interrupts, starting down the steps to grab his own bike. "Come on." Dumbfounded, she follows him. They cycle out of the trailer park, winding up on a bench by the wayside. Percy's downcast, but at least he doesn't seem so angry with Annabeth anymore.

"I tried texting you," she says. "I was worried, and I wanted to apologise. It's been all I can think about."

Percy's silent for a moment. "You don't need to. I was way out of line. I shouldn't have yelled at you," he adds, "that was shitty of me."

She shakes her head. "No. Percy, you were right to be mad. I was acting small-minded."

"No, you were just trying to help. The reason I ran off is 'cause I was scared of not being able to, uh, hold back. I was so angry."

"Even angry, you'd never hurt me," she rebukes, incredulous. "Don't be so stupid."

"Weren't you supposed to be apologising to me, not insulting me?" A smile begins to tug at his lips.

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, be quiet." They laugh, and the unshakeable burden that was dragging Annabeth down begins to ease off her shoulders. "I _am_ sorry, though. I hate making you upset."

"I just don't like feeling useless," Percy says quietly.

She jerks her head up. "You're not useless. How could you think that?"

"I don't know. It's dumb," he says, releasing a ragged breath. His attention lifts to her bruised eye again. Tentatively, he touches the blossoming edge of it with the pad of his thumb. "What happened?" he asks again. "Don't shrug it off. I wanna know."

Annabeth sighs. "A couple guys were about to beat Leo up, and I got in the way. He's okay, though," she reassures him. "We booked it before they could try anything else."

"Can you not be so reckless?" he asks her, haltingly. "Please. I don't like seeing you hurt."

"In the moment, I clearly wasn't thinking," she protests. "It all worked out, anyway."

"I missed you, you know," he tells her. "I wanted to answer your texts, I was just…" He sighs, tearing his gaze away from her black eye. "Scared, I guess. I thought you hated me."

She shakes her head, throwing her arms around him. "God, you absolute idiot. I could never hate you." Hesitantly, he hugs her back, tucking his chin over her shoulder. The smell of machine oil clings to his hair. "You know that, right?"

"Right," Percy murmurs. A heady, rosy feeling envelops Annabeth, and she realises she never wants to let this boy go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! I'm living for annabeth and leo's friendship, tbh. let me know what you thought :D


	17. through stained glass

Finals week proves to be the most painful aspect of the school year, but Percy manages to find respite with Annabeth in between the studying and gruelling stress. She's managed to rope him into helping with her photography final—which admittedly didn't take much convincing on her part. It's Saturday night, and he's sitting on a chair in her bedroom in the dark. Annabeth angles a softly glowing lamp in the direction of his face, holding a piece of foliage paper over the bulb. Its light falls through the paper and over Percy's face, casting interesting shadows. "Keep still," she tells him, raising her camera.

"I'm trying," he mutters.

Her camera shutter goes off again, startling him enough to flinch. "Percy! What did I just tell you?"

"Sorry." He resumes his previous position, trying not to look irritated. Annabeth switches angles, constantly adjusting the knobs and settings of her camera. Her hands are certain, practised and methodical. "Alright, these are good," she says, changing to a new point of view again. "Stay right…there."

"Okay." This close to Annabeth, he can see every one of her pale, sprawling freckles.

He swallows, trying to slow his racing pulse as Annabeth tilts his head sideways with her fingertips. After taking another photo, she steps back with satisfaction. "Alright. Let's try something different, now." She picks up some blue filter paper and attaches it to the lamp with tape. Before long, her camera's back in her hand.

"Have you got church tomorrow?" he asks. She takes several photos of his side profile in quick succession.

Without breaking concentration, she shakes her head. "Nah. Helen never goes these days—she doesn't want to, not without my dad—and I'm kinda too scared to go by myself."

Percy doesn't speak for a moment, and his silence is punctuated by the incessant clicking of Annabeth's camera. "Do you want to?"

She halts in motion, hands stilling. "I don't know," she sighs. "It seems stupid. I'm not sure I even believe in God, anymore. And if I set foot in there, I'd probably just…cry, or something." Wordlessly, she turns around and changes the filter on the lamp to a red one. "Look down," she says.

Percy follows her instructions, letting his gaze fall to where his palms rest in his lap. Quietly and before he can stop himself, he says, "I could come. If you want."

Annabeth laughs. "What, to church?"

For some reason, that makes him defensive. "Hey, I've been to church before!"

She rolls her eyes. "Like, years ago." Raising her camera again, she continues, "I guess I just can't picture you there. It's all…orderly."

"Yeah, well. I'd come, if you wanted me to."

She smiles. "That would be really nice, actually. Maybe with you next to me, I won't cry like a little kid. Look up, please."

"I wouldn't put it past you, honestly," he jokes, raising his eyes to the ceiling. Her camera clicks, immortalising yet another moment in time. "So…I'll be here at eight?"

"You'd better show up in your Sunday best." She smiles. Percy smiles back, and her camera shutter goes off again like clockwork.

* * *

The next day, Percy wakes up and changes into the nicest outfit he owns: a white shirt and slacks, both of which have been stitched up a few times at the seams. He wishes he could just wear the suit he wore to the premiere, but that was returned ages ago—so this is the best he can do. He cycles to Annabeth's estate, uncertain why his palms keep sweating and his stomach's become knotted with apprehension.

He knocks on the door, running a hand through his hair. He washed it this morning to get the machine grease out, but it's not quite dry yet. Annabeth opens the door, a smile on her face. "Hey." A button-up blue dress falls to her knees, and her hair's been styled.

"Wow," he says, caught off-guard. "You look…"

"Like a Catholic schoolgirl?"

"No," he laughs. "You look really nice. Way better than me."

"Nah," she shoots back, smiling. Reaching out, she smooths out the shoulder pad of his jacket. "Suits definitely work for you."

He rolls his eyes, but warmth still blooms in his chest. "Let's go, then."

It doesn't take long to reach Annabeth's church. As they approach it, fear suddenly glistens in her eyes. She stops, dragging Percy back.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"I don't think I can do this," she mutters.

His brows furrow. "What?" She tries to step back again, so he gently takes hold of her sleeve. "No, of course you can."

Annabeth shrinks, shaking her head. "You don't understand. I can't go in there."

He meets her eyes, stopping her from looking away. Softly, he asks, "Why?"

"Because I'm scared."

"I know. I know, but you _can_ do this. You wanted to. Right?"

"I still _do_ , I just—" She cuts herself off.

He pauses. "Just?"

She sighs, hands subconsciously lifting to clutch her upper arms. For comfort, maybe. "I don't know if I'm strong enough."

Percy steps forward, gathering her into a hug. "You are. God, you are."

She sniffles. "What if I go in there, and I see him?"

"Then you look at me. You look at me, okay?"

"That won't work."

He pulls away, but not entirely. "Maybe not, but…will you try?"

Annabeth doesn't respond immediately. Her gaze flits behind him to the looming church. She swallows, then nods. "Yeah, okay."

Most of the churchgoers are already inside, waiting for Mass to start. Percy and Annabeth slide into a pew near the back. Annabeth looks pale, but determination sings from the careful set of her jaw. The priest begins his sermon, Latin words echoing through the church. He switches to English after a while, but Percy still doesn't understand much of it.

Instead, his gaze lifts to the stained-glass windows. Sunlight filters through them like watercolour paint, falling in shafts across the pews. A discordant ray catches on Annabeth's closed eyelids, shifting and changing. She's mouthing the words of the prayer that the priest's begun to recite, and her hands are clasped in her lap. Her brows are furrowed in something akin to pain. Grief, maybe. Percy nudges her, making her jerk out of her stupor. _You okay?_ he mouths. Shakily, she nods and offers him an uncertain smile. It's enough to reassure him. He turns away, but he can still feel Annabeth's eyes lingering on his profile.

At long last, she looks away. Strangely, Percy misses the warmth.

* * *

Freshman year ends with a whimper, rather than a bang. Percy tries not to think too hard about the mess that comprises of his exam results, instead focusing on the long summer ahead of him. He's got a few more years of high school to get his act together, anyway. And there's a thousand things that seem more important—like all the shitty things that have happened this year. All the things Annabeth has gone through. He never could've anticipated that they would still, somehow, sometimes manage to be happy.

Most days, though, Percy can see Annabeth struggling. He doesn't know how much of it the others notice, but Percy does—he always does. He notices everything about her: the dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes, the half-scrubbed away mascara she sleeps in but never properly takes off. He wants her to get better, but with each passing day the chance of it seems slimmer and slimmer. Sometimes, Percy thinks he'd give all of himself to make it happen.

As Annabeth's birthday approaches, the five of them begin to wonder what they should do to celebrate it. Given everything that's happened, there's an unspoken agreement that there needs to be a distraction. This coincides with Piper suggesting they stay for a few days at a beach house, and before long they've planned to spend Annabeth's birthday weekend in a bungalow near Bethel Beach. As all of them are minors, Thalia and her girlfriend are coming too; they require adult supervision in order to rent out a place to stay.

Annabeth tried to say they didn't need to celebrate so hugely when they asked her about it, but she was easily broken down by the idea of a vacation. _God knows she needs one,_ Percy thinks.

The day before they're due to leave, Percy stops in town after a late shift. He already knows that he wants to buy another charm to go on Annabeth's necklace for her birthday, and now it's just a matter of finding it.

As pushes open the door to a small jewellery store, an antique customer bell chimes above him. The store is dimly lit and smells like dust. Stacks of metal beads, charms and earrings surround him, and chain necklaces hang on the walls. There are books, too. The entire setup is beautiful, albeit overwhelmingly maximalist. Percy feels like he's stepped into some sort of faerie lair. A woman sits with her legs up on the till, an atlas open on her lap. She doesn't even look up at Percy.

Swallowing his nerves, Percy walks over to a locked glass cabinet that's labelled _Sterling Silver_. Dozens of charms are neatly laid out in cubby holes within it, and he tries to avoid looking at their prices. Some gleam in the light, others refract colour from their embedded gems and rhinestones. Percy notices a tiny owl charm, feathers intricately carved and eyes inlaid with pin-sized green gems. Instantly, he knows Annabeth would be drawn to it. It's in the forty-dollar cubby, which seems excessive. At least it'll be good quality, Percy supposes. Turning to the woman at the till, he points into the cabinet. "Excuse me, ma'am. Could I get the owl charm?"

Once the charm's been wrapped in tissue and he's paid, he tucks it into the pocket of his jacket and steps out of the store. Virginia's summer heat beats down on him as he cycles home to the trailer. He's excited to give Annabeth her gift, but a different anxiety is beginning to consume Percy's thoughts. He still hasn't told Gabe that he's going away for the weekend, hasn't even _asked_ him. Percy's usual strategy of waiting until Gabe's in a good mood to ask him anything hasn't worked—his stepdad's been in a piss-poor and volatile mood all week. At this point, Percy's getting worried.

It's getting dark by the time Percy cycles into the trailer park and chains his bike up. He reaches into his pocket, just to check the charm's still there. Thankfully, his fingers close around its tissue wrapping. He slips his key into the trailer door's lock and pushes the door open, stepping out of his shoes as he closes it behind him. It's dark inside, and Percy looks up to see that the lightbulb hanging above him has blown. Percy makes a mental note to buy a new bulb as soon as he gets the chance.

Gabe's sitting on the couch, cigarette in his mouth and feet on the coffee table. The television casts a dim, ghostly light on his face. He doesn't react to Percy's entry, so Percy heads into the kitchen and fills up a glass of water to drink. Gabe turns off the television and stands up, cracking his stiff back. "There any beers in the fridge?"

Obediently, Percy opens the fridge door to check. There's one left—never a good sign. "Yes, sir." He steps back as Gabe reaches into the fridge and grabs it, popping the metal lid with a fizzing crackle. Percy peers into the cupboard to grab a can of tomato soup. He should ask Gabe now, right? Percy clears his throat, steeling his nerves as best he can. "Sir, I wanted to ask…" He trails off.

Gabe takes a swig of his beer. "What?"

"It's, uh. It's my friend's birthday this weekend, and we're thinking about going camping." He doesn't mention the fact that they'll be staying in a beach house. Even though Percy hadn't had to pay for any of it, he knows Gabe would still flip out.

"Camping?" Gabe glowers at him. "So, you're not gonna be working?"

Percy tries to meet his stepdad's gaze. "It's only a couple days. I even took some extra shifts this week to make up for it."

"You expect me to scrounge up the money for the bills on my own, then?" Gabe's logic is the same as it always is: greedy and blind to a fault.

"No, I—"

Gabe slams his beer bottle down on the counter, making Percy jump. "Ungrateful shit." He steps forward, jabbing his finger into Percy's chest. "You're not going anywhere. You better call up the machine shop and tell them you're working, or I'll fucking do it myself."

Percy sets his jaw, determined not to let Gabe win this one. He wants so badly to go, wants to be allowed this one thing he's dared to want. "It's only a couple days," he repeats. "Please—"

Out of nowhere, Gabe backhands him across the face. Percy cries out, clutching his smarting cheek. Numbness seeps through Percy, the only defense mechanism he knows. "Don't fucking talk back."

"Sorry, sir," he manages. The metallic tang of blood sparks on his tongue from where his gum's broken, bitter yet sickly sweet. "I just…"

Gabe gets up in his face, grabbing the underside of Percy's quickly bruising jaw. "What?" he sneers. From here, Percy can smell the drink on his breath. Dimly, he wonders how many bottles Gabe's got through this afternoon alone.

Percy swallows, trying not to let panic overwhelm him. "I'll double my shifts next week," he tries desperately, turning to bargaining. "And I'll re-chain your bike. Please."

That seems to give Gabe pause. He narrows his eyes, loosening his vice-like grip on Percy's jaw. "You'll do it tonight?"

Percy nods hesitantly, afraid to hope. "I will."

"You better run 'round to the store and grab me a couple six-packs to last the weekend, too. Go to that one on the corner—they sell to minors."

Relief floods Percy's chest. "Okay. Thank you, sir."

"You better stay out of trouble, now," he hisses. When Percy nods, Gabe grabs the front of his shirt and jerks him forward. "I'm fucking serious. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Percy grits out. That seems to satisfy Gabe. He shoves Percy backwards into the counter, turning around to pick up his abandoned beer. Pain flares through Percy's spine, but he ignores in favour of booking it out of the kitchen. He hasn't grabbed anything to eat, but at this point food is too much of a risk. Once Percy's closed the door to his bedroom, he leans against it. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, and he can feel a painful bruise blossoming on his cheekbone.

Percy squeezes his eyes shut and slides slowly down to the cold, hard floor. Around him, the universe has gone quiet.

* * *

The next day, Percy throws everything he'll need for the weekend into an old, tatty rucksack and cycles to Jason's house. When he pulls up outside, Annabeth's finishing getting Thalia's car packed. It's a hot day; she's wearing a chalk-white summer dress that ripples around her knees, caught by the fluctuant breeze. "Annabeth!" he calls, hopping off his bike as he hits the curb.

She spins around, rucksack on her arm. When she sees him, a smile blossoms into existence on her face. "Percy. You ready to go?"

"Yeah. Should I put this in the trunk?" he asks, already slinging his backpack off his shoulder.

But as he steps forward to put it in, Annabeth stops him. There's something like concern in her eyes. "What's that on your face?" she asks haltingly, half-reaching up to touch his bruise before stopping herself.

"Oh, right. I got in a fight with one of the trailer park kids," he tells her, allowing nonchalance to seep into his tone.

Annabeth chews on her lip, expression unreadable. "You really ought to be more careful."

He tries for a half-smile, loading his backpack into the trunk. "It's okay. It barely even hurts."

"I bet it does," Annabeth says, so quietly that her words seem almost unconscious. It looks as though she might say something else, but their attention's jerked away in the same instant.

Leo leaps out of the door, whooping. "We're going on vacation!" he practically screams. For some reason, a garland hangs around his neck.

Piper and Jason closely follow him. She rolls her eyes as they approach Percy and Annabeth. "It's hardly a vacation. I mean, we're only going for two nights."

"And the beach is, like, barely two hours' drive," Jason adds.

"Hey, don't kill the mood," Leo complains. He perks up again, pulling his phone out. "I made a banging road trip playlist. Annabeth, look—"

"Can't we just have the radio?" Piper complains as Annabeth and Leo hunch over his phone. "I don't trust his music taste."

"You might have to admit defeat on this one," Percy grins, eliciting a groan from Piper.

Jason's door slams shut, and the five of them look up to see Thalia and her girlfriend walking down the path. "Alright, kids," Thalia yells. "Get in the car."

"Okay, mom," Jason mutters, but they do as instructed.

The five of them have to squeeze across the backseat, and Annabeth's half-sitting on Percy's lap. "Sorry," she mutters, cheeks pink.

Thalia's girlfriend takes shotgun. As she braids her dark hair into a single plait, her silver bangles clank around her wrists. Inaudibly, she whispers something to Thalia across the dashboard, making her laugh. Grinning, Thalia leans around to introduce her. "Y'all, this is Reyna. Don't piss her off, alright? I barely convinced her to come in the first place."

Reyna's eyes cut across to Percy's in the rearview mirror. "What, I was meant to be excited to hang out with a bunch of twelve-year-olds?" she snipes, but her mouth still curves in a smile.

"Dude, you _know_ we're all fifteen," Jason argues. "There's no need to be so rude, Reyna."

"Annabeth and I aren't fifteen yet," Percy cuts in. His birthday's over a month away.

Beside him, Annabeth laughs. "Well, I'm fifteen tomorrow. So, you're the youngest here."

For some reason, that doesn't quite compute in Percy's head. "Oh, God," he mutters. At that, the others laugh.

The rest of the drive is bliss. Leo's playlist perfectly encapsulates the atmosphere of the scorching day as they soar across Virginia's prairies. Percy finds himself throwing his head back and mouthing the lyrics along with the others, entirely swept up in their elation. At one point, Annabeth opens the sunroof and sticks her head through. "Percy, come on!" she yells, voice distorted by the wind.

Trying not to fall over, he manages to stand up and stick his head and shoulders through the sunroof. The world hurtles past them, a blur of pale grass and hazy sunlight. Annabeth grins at him, grabbing his sleeve for stability. "Hold onto me—I'm gonna let go." She whoops loudly, throwing her arms up as Thalia breaks the speed limit. Percy can feel the music, feel the wind whipping his cheeks and Annabeth's warm waist between his hands. He's utterly detached from his sane mind, but he doesn't mind the feeling. It's a perfect, beautiful distraction from all the bad things.

He laughs, and Annabeth's arms come down to rest on his shoulders. With the sun blazing down, Percy thinks the two of them might be invincible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm loving these road trip vibes, haha! thanks for reading, let me know your thoughts! the next chapter will be up on wednesday as usual :)


	18. a colder emperor

Arriving at the beach house is nothing less than a dream. The seven of them fall through the heavy wooden door with their luggage, laughing and shouting and claiming rooms. All arching windows and stone walls, the house isn't like anywhere Percy's ever stayed before. Him and Annabeth are last to claim somewhere to sleep, and all that's left is a double bed. "I can sleep on the floor, if you want," Percy offers. Though externally this might seem like a generous offer, Percy's just trying to save his damn heart from racing all weekend.

Annabeth rolls her eyes, dumping her stuff on the bed and kicking off her shoes in favour of sandals. "Don't be stupid. This works, right?"

"Right," Percy agrees, hating the blush that rises to the tips of his ears.

The kitchen's huge, and the wine cabinet is fully stocked. Thalia's eyes are wide as she opens it. "Do you think they realise none of us are twenty-one yet?"

Everyone's working to unload the groceries they arrived with. Head in the cupboard, Leo says, "Who cares? Don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

"He's right, you know," Reyna says. She's fiddling with the radio, turning the dial to different degrees of crackling static. At last, she finds the right station and music floods from its speaker.

"We're going to the beach today, right?" Piper asks.

Percy peers through the window. Evening's fallen. "I don't know. We arrived pretty late and it's already getting dark out. We could wait for morning?"

Annabeth perks up. "You're kidding. Night swims are the best!" The others chorus their agreement.

Percy raises his hands in surrender, smiling. "Alright, alright."

They all change into their swimmers, pulling loose clothes on over the top to wear down to the beach. It's only a two-minute walk; their beach house is right on the dunes. Though it's dark, warmth still lingers from the scorching day and a cool, pleasant breeze ripples across Percy's skin when they step outside. Leo and Piper are the first to run down the path, voices loud and excited, and Jason's close behind. Percy and Annabeth have to sprint to catch up, marram grass lashing their ankles.

Annabeth's plaited her hair into Dutch braids to keep it secure while she swims, but small curls keep popping out around her face as she runs. Turning to grin at Percy, she breathlessly shouts, "Race you into the water!" and breaks into a sprint.

Percy curses at being left in the dust, stumbling over himself in an effort to catch up. He pulls off his sandals as he hits the sand, almost neck-and-neck with Annabeth as they strip to their swimmers and crash into the high tide. They shriek as the cold foam washes over them, disarmingly brutal. Percy laughs as the pair of them submerge together, gasping and spluttering when they resurface. The water is dark as pitch yet dappled with slowly brightening starlight, and the rest of the beach is deserted save for Thalia and Reyna standing still clothed at the shoreline, shoulders close while they talk.

Out of nowhere, Annabeth splashes freezing water up into Percy's face. Grinning, he crashes after her, shouting, "You've sealed your fate!" Annabeth screams and laughs, swimming away as fast as she can. Leo and Piper join in the splashing-war, and soon Percy has to blink salt out of his eyes.

They're in the sea for what feels like hours, until Percy's skin turns numb and his hair stiffens with salt. Thalia eventually convinces Reyna to come in and the pair of them swim around each other like planets in orbit, laughing.

When they stumble out of the intrepid sea, Annabeth links her cold arm through Percy's and pulls him forward. "Come on, let's get dry!" she says through chattering teeth. Her cheeks are flushed pink, and she look like a streak of gold in the darkness. They huddle together under a towel, goosebumps scraping at their bare skin. "That was amazing," Annabeth breathes, gaze lingering on the path of silver light painted like ripples from the very edge of the horizon. After a moment, she turns away to look back at Percy. A look of awe is still reflected in her eyes. She nudges him. "Hey, it's gotta be after midnight now."

Catching her drift, Percy lets out a startled laugh. "You're officially fifteen."

She grins. "Think you can catch up?"

He elbows her. "Don't be daft—of course I'll catch up."

Leo and Piper are chasing Jason out of the ocean, and he bites out a curse when they shove him playfully onto the wet sand. He shoots out a leg and manages to trip them both, and soon they're a chaotic tangle of limbs. Annabeth slips out from under the towel and runs towards them, joining the pile-on with a loud thump. An unexpected wave surges over them, reducing the four of them to a spluttering, shrieking mess. Percy jogs over, smiling at the state they're in. "Help me up," Annabeth groans. Percy takes her hand, but only pulls her up halfway before releasing her hand with a smirk. She falls flat on her arse, sending sand flying. "Oh, you little—"

"Sorry, sorry. I'll help you up for real this time," he apologises, lifting her to her feet with a grin. She glares at him, but she's overcome by laughter a moment later.

It's nearly one 'o' clock when they make it back to the beach house, utterly worn-out. Reyna and Thalia disappear upstairs to their room, trading furtive kisses and tender glances. The rest of them change into comfortable clothes and stay up talking for a while on their beds.

Percy and Annabeth are the last ones left awake. Quilt pulled up to their chins, they talk quietly so as not to wake the others. Annabeth sleeps with her hair down, and her pillow's swathed with still-drying, messy curls. "I love it here," she admits to him. "Feels like we're years away from Virginia, but we haven't even left the border."

"I know," Percy says, fighting to stay awake. He smiles. "I love it here, too."

Annabeth adjusts her position, closing her eyes. "Night, Percy."

"Goodnight," he replies softly. He always falls asleep fast, but he knows it'll take Annabeth a long time.

* * *

The next morning, Percy wakes up close—too close—to Annabeth. He scrambles away on terrified instinct, managing to wake her up in the process. Woozily, she asks, "What's wrong?"

Percy's mouth is dry. He smiles. "Nothing." He pokes her. "Happy birthday, Annie."

After a lazy morning of sitting around and eating the questionable birthday pancakes Thalia throws together, they all head down to the beach. Bodyboards tucked under their arms, Percy, Leo and Jason are the first to brave the water. The girls stay on the shore for a while; Annabeth and Thalia play ping pong while Piper and Reyna sunbathe, bronzing their backs under the relentless sun.

The good weather holds out for most of the day, but it begins to cloud over while Percy and Annabeth are picking through the shoreline for shells. "I just checked the forecast—it looks like it's gonna rain," Jason yells to them from where he's sitting with Piper on the towels.

"How long have we got?" Percy shouts back.

Jason shrugs. "Half an hour? I doubt it'll be heavy."

The first drops of rain slip from the sky just as Percy finds a small, grey pearl. It's oval rather than round and imperfectly coloured—baroque. "What's that?" Annabeth asks, looking up from the variety of shells she's holding.

After a moment of hesitation, he holds it out to her. "Here."

She takes it, squinting down at it. As Percy watches her, he wonders if Annabeth might be long-sighted. "It's beautiful," she says.

She goes to hand it back, but Percy shakes his head. Carefully, he cups her hand around it. "You keep it," he tells her.

She smiles down at the pearl, running her thumb over its smooth surface. "Thanks." The rain is falling harder and faster now, catching like frozen teardrops on Annabeth's curls.

Percy looks up into the darkening sky, realising a storm is beginning to form above them. At the same moment, a gust of wind sweeps past them. "We should probably get back," Percy says. Annabeth nods as she shivers, cold in only a bikini top and shorts.

Together, they run back to the others who are frantically packing everything away. Jason grabs his body board, picking up his sandals with the other hand. "Let's go," Thalia calls, hoisting their beach bag over one shoulder and grabbing Reyna's hand.

Warm summer rain lashes Percy's shoulders, sticking his hair to his face in wet strands as they all sprint up the path. The storm has reached a dangerous impetus and follows them through the door in icy blasts as they crash through it, soaked to the skin and laughing.

After getting dry, the seven of them sit down on the living room floor to give Annabeth her gifts. Music plays from the radio, punctuated by the incessant patter of rain against the glass windows.

Piper gives Annabeth a worn copy of _The Iliad,_ complete with her own annotations. The two of them have a tradition of giving each other their annotated favourites, and Percy thinks it's sweet. Leo's bought her a new notebook; from Jason, she receives a reel of colour film for her analog camera. Thalia and Reyna give her a Toblerone, which Annabeth starts eating right away. "This is an _elite_ chocolate," she says, handing segments around to the others.

Percy goes last, handing Annabeth the owl charm in its tissue wrap. "For your necklace," he says quietly. She's got several other charms on there, now. One for each summer they've been friends. Annabeth gasps as she tears open the tissue, taking out the charm with a kind of reverence. It glints, its emerald eyes catching the light. She grins at Percy, throwing her arms around him. "I love it," she says fervently. "Thank you."

They play Monopoly all evening. Once Annabeth finally bankrupts Jason—her last competitor—Leo shows up with two bottles of wine from the cabinet and a tray of glasses. "We're dining in style tonight," he tells them, as if they weren't planning to eat their macaroni cheese while sitting on the carpet in front of the TV.

Piper sighs heavily. "Really?"

"What?" he says defensively. "We've gotta toast to Annabeth's birthday."

Of course, all of them end up having a few glasses. Though it's still raining hard outside, Jason and Annabeth head out onto the veranda under an umbrella. It's mostly for Jason's sake, who's been itching for a cigarette all afternoon. Percy notices that there's pain in Thalia's eyes whenever Jason smokes. It can't be easy for her, to see her little brother still so affected by a bad habit passed down from their mother.

It's late when Reyna gets out her tarot cards, spreading them out on the kitchen table. She's less drunk than the rest of them, which admittedly isn't saying much—apart from Percy. He's staying sober. "Dim the lights," she orders as Percy, Leo and Thalia each take a seat around the table. Percy gets up and does as she asks. Reyna carefully lights a candle, which flickers on their faces in the dark as it strengthens.

"Tell my future, babe," Thalia slurs, leaning against her.

Reyna rolls her eyes, but there's affection in her smile. "Tarot isn't always used to tell the future. I use it for decision-making."

"How does it work?" Percy asks.

She winks. "You'll see. Who wants to go first?"

Piper leans in as Reyna shuffles the cards, curious. "I will," she decides.

"Is there anything in particular you wanna find out?"

Piper hesitates for a moment before asking, "How can I build a career around music?"

Reyna holds the tarot deck out to Piper. "Shuffle them," she says.

"Why?"

"Some people say it charges the cards with your intent," Reyna responds.

"Oh." Piper shuffles them.

Reyna takes them back from her and closes her eyes for a moment, the tension surrounding them palpable. As they all watch her, Percy hardly dares to breathe. Reyna lays out three cards: the Ace of Wands, Judgement and Strength. She studies them for a moment, dark brows knotted. "Alright," she says. "The upright Ace of Wands suggests there's a call for your creative side, for your ambition."

"Makes sense," Piper murmurs.

"Judgement reversed tells me you'll need to work against your self-doubt," Reyna continues. "The fact it's paired with Strength reversed shows there's a continued theme of this doubt. Insecurity could be your worst enemy." She smiles at Piper. "You'll be fine. Just remember that you're strong enough, and your weaknesses are nothing compared to your creativity."

Piper nods slowly, eyes locked on the cards. "Okay." She exhales. "Wow. This is kinda cool."

"I don't know how much stock you should seriously put in this, Pipes," Leo snorts.

Reyna shrugs. "The cards can only help so much. You'll get out what you put in."

"Can I go next?" Thalia asks. Reyna hands her the cards. She shuffles them, then passes them back. Reyna watches her, quietly, as she thinks of what to ask. "Okay. How can I help Jason deal with his grief?" she asks. The question comes out matter-of-factly, which seems surprising to Percy. He supposes as she's older, Thalia's been more able to come to terms with losing their mom than Jason has.

Reyna pulls three cards just as she did before, laying them out. "The Five of Cups reversed," she says. "You've found acceptance, but he hasn't. The High Priestess tells me that there might be some repressed emotions between the two of you. And Temperance reversed…" She pauses. "You and Jason have lost your middle ground. It'll take patience to find it again."

"Fuck, you're so smart," Thalia mumbles. Reyna laughs. Thalia sits up, eyes wide. "Did I say that out loud?"

"Leo, you want a turn?" Reyna asks. He rolls his eyes, but Percy can tell he's curious.

With a nod, he asks, "How can I, uh…be stronger?" He shuffles the cards, and Reyna draws three.

She stares at them for a few dragging seconds—longer than she took for any of the others. "Death reversed," she murmurs. "You're afraid of change. You need to stop holding on so hard to the past, to whoever you used to be. The Three of Swords suggests there's suffering in your life that's breaking you down, but…" She taps the final card. "This one, the Seven of Swords, tells me that you're searching for new purpose. Whenever you find it, or _them_ , you'll be stronger."

Leo's shoulders shrink, but his jaw sets. "Alright," he responds. No one says anything, their attention focused on Reyna's cards. Her deck isn't the usual Rider-Waite; the illustrations are darker, somehow. More twisted.

"Percy? Would you like me to read your cards?"

He looks up at her, suddenly seized by fear. "Uh—no. No, that's okay," he says. Reyna's expression is scrutinising, but she nods.

Annabeth and Jason come in from the veranda. Their clothes are damp from the rain, but they're cold-faced and smiling. "Ooh, are those tarot cards?" Annabeth asks, hurrying over to the table.

As the evening wears on, the others get drunker and drunker. That familiar anxiety stirs in Percy at being around people who are drinking, even though he knows it's irrational. These people would never hurt him. Still, he seeks refuge outside on the veranda. The rain's lessened to barely a drizzle, and the clouds have parted to reveal the waning moon. Percy sighs, closing his eyes. A second later, though, the weight of a hand folds around his shoulder.

He flinches back, startled. "Hey, it's only me," Reyna says. "I came out to check if you're alright."

"Oh," he says.

Silence stretches out after that. Reyna cocks a brow. "So? Are you?"

Shaken out of his stupor, he replies, "Yeah. I just needed air."

"Mind if I join you?"

"Sure."

She leans on the wooden railing beside him, gazing out into the darkness. Without turning to him, she asks, "Can I ask how you got that bruise on your face?"

At that, Percy has to resist reaching up and touching it. He exhales. "In a fight."

Reyna doesn't respond for a moment. "My dad had PTSD," she tells him, out of nowhere. "He was a veteran who came home a hero. He'd done good things—bad things, too. As I got older, he slowly went mad. He was always losing sight of what was real and what wasn't, and would throw furniture at me and Hylla. Even hit us, sometimes."

"Why are you telling me this?" Percy asks, despite already knowing the answer.

Reyna turns to him, eyes darker than onyx. She jerks her chin at his face, at the purplish smudge on his cheek. "Because you remind me of it." She pauses. "I want you to know that if your situation is anything like what mine used to be like, you can tell me. Because I get it."

Percy's already shaking his head. "Well, it's not. You—you don't need to worry." He pauses, wishing he could just turn and run. "Seriously."

She nods, slow and careful. "Okay, then." Offering him a faint smile, she asks, "Sure you don't want me to read your cards?" Reaching into her pocket, she withdraws her tarot pack and lets the cards slip out easily into her grasp.

On instinct, Percy reaches forward and takes them. Their surfaces are silky-smooth, gliding easily under his fingers as he shuffles them. He passes them back to Reyna, almost afraid. "I don't know what to ask, though."

"That's fine. I'll just do a general read, then." She draws three cards, laying them out on the wooden railing. Percy studies them over her shoulder, trying to glean any kind of meaning from their strange illustrations. "The Seven of Pentacles and the Nine of Wands tell me that you're resilient, someone who works themselves to the bone to stay afloat. There's a last stand ahead of you, though, and these qualities might not be enough to get you through it."

"And what about that one?" he asks. "The Emperor."

"It's reversed," she says. "I think there's a tyrant in your life. Someone cold, someone immovable. You're helpless against them."

Percy feels his fists clench. He hates her words, hates that she's trying to find meaning in something so clearly _false_. "Seems pretty fake," he finds himself saying.

There's a strange, inscrutable emotion in the downward tilt of Reyna's mouth. "If you like," she says. "C'mon, let's go inside. The rain's starting up again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter makes me miss summer so much :') thalia and reyna are honestly the sweetest. quick disclaimer: I'm definitely not an expert on tarot, so suspend your disbelief. let me know what you thought—the next chapter will be up on sunday as usual.


	19. one and only

Annabeth jerks out of sleep for the third time in the same night, a cry on her lips. Sweat glistens on her skin, and the remnants of her nightmare are still branded on her vision. "God," she mutters, falling back onto her pillow with a thump. It took her hours to get to sleep, only for The Image to tear back her to consciousness again. Reaching an absent hand up to her necklace, her fingers close around the most recent charm hanging from it: the silver owl. Its metal is cold beneath her grasp, soothing and grounding. It's her favourite one so far, and she knows how much it must've cost Percy.

His birthday was last week—always the first sign of summer drawing to a close. To celebrate, they all hung around Annabeth's estate and ordered pizza. It was fun, but Percy seemed scattered and far-off the whole time. Annabeth's aware that's just how he is sometimes; she only wishes she knew why.

She turns over and opens the drawer of her bedside table, taking out a cardboard jewellery box. Lifting the lid, she withdraws the baroque pearl Percy found for her back at the beach house. She thumbs it, letting herself fall back into the memory of him closing her fingers around it. _You keep it_ , he said. Like it was nothing—and wasn't it?

Replacing the pearl, she grabs her phone and shoots Percy a text. _You awake?_ Hopeful, she stares into the burning, luminescent brightness for a few long moments to see if he'll reply. When there's no immediate response, she sighs and shuts off the screen. It's late, so he's probably passed out in bed. He's been taking too many shifts lately, working himself to the bone. Annabeth sometimes thinks about saying something, asking him not to work so hard, but he never listens to her. At least, not when it comes to things as inconsequential as his own wellbeing. She knows he thinks he has to struggle through everything alone, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

Annabeth pulls the covers up to her chin and turns onto her right side, drawing her knees up. She squeezes her eyes shut, hoping that the blood rush might push her father's broken, ruined form from her vision. Recently, The Image has been more horrific than ever. She knows there wasn't so much blood when she found him, wasn't so much brain matter on the concrete, but over time The Image has contorted into a hideous version of what it used to be. It's become alive—breathing, changing. It torments her waking moments, and wholly takes over her unconscious ones.

Even with the sleeping meds diluting her thoughts, falling asleep is a battle every time.

* * *

Sophomore year begins. Already, Annabeth is tired of it; the enjoyment and invigoration she used to associate with learning is absent. The long, lucid hours that came with summer are wrenched away by her long school days, replaced by a dull-edged anxiety. Her teachers seem to sense that something's up. Still, she doubts they'll intervene unless her grades start to suffer.

The only good thing that comes with school is that she now has Latin with Percy. She sits on the row in front of him, and his snide remarks and whispered comments are the highlight of her school days. But today, even he can't do anything to lift her mood. It's a Thursday, and Annabeth woke up with The Image at the forefront of her mind. All morning, she hasn't been able to stop thinking about the tests she's done nothing to prepare for and the photography coursework due on Monday that she hasn't even started yet. Lately, it feels like she's in a perpetual state of sleep-deprivation and stress. Being unable to stop thinking about her dad is the cherry on the cake.

Annabeth's staring at the textbook open in front of her, clicking her pen with a detached kind of subconsciousness. Mr Louis' voice has become blurred and indistinct. Annabeth can't seem to stop the racing of her heart, or stave off the sense of doom that threatens to swallow her up.

"Miss Chase?"

She jerks her head up to see Mr Louis looking at her expectantly. She manages a hoarse, "What?"

He crossed his arms, a muscle in his jaw ticking with irritation. "I asked you a question. Please pay attention during my lessons, or I'll be forced to send you outside."

"Sorry," she mutters. Mr Louis moves on, directing the question to another classmate. Lifting her chin, Annabeth makes an effort to focus her gaze on the blackboard, but the Latin words scrawled across it in pale, dusty chalk appear even less comprehensible than they ever have. She places her pen down on the table with an unsteady hand, feeling almost feverish. _Pull yourself together,_ she orders herself, but the thought is nothing but a far-off echo.

Suddenly, Annabeth feels a gentle tap on her shoulder. She turns around, meeting Percy's endlessly green eyes. They're creased with concern. "You okay?" he whispers. "You seem stressed."

She doesn't even have time to summon a nod in response before Mr Louis butts in. "Jackson!" he snaps. "Stop talking and take some damn notes."

When Latin finally ends, Annabeth sweeps her stuff into her backpack as quickly as she can and books it out the door. She's sweating, and she's struggling to gain control of her breathing. _The restroom,_ she thinks. Locking herself in a stall is the only plan of action she can think of. She hurries down the corridor, squeezing her eyes shut in a desperate attempt to block out The Image that screams for attention.

But before she can reach the bathroom, a hand closes around her wrist. She spins around, eyes wide and breathing fast. Percy's there, worry etched into the lines of his face like unmined gold dust. "Let go of me!" she all but shouts, wrenching her arm out of his grasp.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," he says. "Just—Annabeth, you're panicking." He steps forward, taking hold of her sleeve. Gently, this time. "Come on." Annabeth doesn't tear her arm away. Instead, she allows Percy to lead her down to an empty corridor in the Art department.

It's quiet down here, and somehow that's so much worse. Annabeth grasps at her own forearms, sinking down the wall. It's darker here, too. Percy's arm around her is an anchor against her heaving breaths, against her shuddering limbs, against the awful sense of unreality that's fallen over her like a consuming, stifling weight. It feels like an eternity that she sits there, struggling to regain control of her raging thoughts. Percy keeps murmuring, "Breathe, Annabeth. Breathe."

She latches onto his words, tying her consciousness to the constant and familiar sound of his voice. Slowly but surely, she calms down. A wave of relief washes over her. She can feel her body again. "God," she exhales, still fighting to slow her breathing. "What the fuck? What the fuck?"

"You're okay," Percy tells her. "You're okay." He's crouched in front of her, looking frightened but clearly trying to hide it for her sake. "How do you feel?" he asks with a tentative smile, leaning forward to pull her into a loose hug as though he's handling something fragile.

Annabeth's embarrassed to feel salt welling up in her eyes. "Like shit," she mutters. “I'm sorry. I can't believe I freaked out like that—"

Percy pulls back, shaking his head. "No, you just got overwhelmed. You did really well, alright?"

She scoffs, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes. "I gotta stand up," she mumbles. Cautiously, Percy helps Annabeth to her feet. She feels exhausted, fatigued through her bones to her fingertips. The realisation of how stupid she's acting falls upon her, and she steps away from Percy. Her hands come up to her forearms again, a nervous habit. Face red with humiliation, she says, "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Hey, don't apologise," he chides her. "It wasn't your fault—in any fucking way." He pauses, brow crinkling. "Do you know what brought it on?"

Annabeth starts shaking her head, then half-nods. "I don't know. My mind's been in a mess all day. I haven't slept much…" She trails off.

"Your dad?" Those two short, quiet words ask more than a thousand ever could. Nowadays, Annabeth feels like he's everything in her tangled-up life leads back to him; his ever-present ghost lingers like a wine stain on white tablecloth. She doesn't say anything, but Percy seems to understand her silence anyway. He hugs her, but pulls away a second before she wants him to. "Should I take you to the school nurse?"

"No. No, it's okay."

"Sure?"

" _Yes,_ Percy. I'll be fine."

* * *

For the next few weeks, Annabeth can't seem to get a grasp on her anxiety. The attacks—whatever they are—only get worse from there on out. Annabeth feels helpless, like the floor's been ripped from beneath her feet. She knows the others notice, but Percy's the one and only person she lets near her when she feels the first dredges of an attack coming. She trusts him more than she trusts the others. He _is_ her oldest friend, after all, so maybe it makes sense.

Either way, Annabeth's grades plummet. Initially, she tries to stick it out, but it's not long before the school nurse convinces her to see a professional. "This will continue to affect you until you find a way to deal with it," she explains. _Obviously,_ Annabeth wants to retort. It's an effort to bite her tongue.

Annabeth goes to the same doctor who gave her advice about her insomnia, who then refers her to a psychologist: Doctor Hale. He recommends either CBT or counselling, but she fights both of those options. She doesn't know if it would help, and is terrified of even trying. Talking about any of it has only ever made everything worse, more encompassing. More painful.

After two visits to her psychologist, he diagnoses her with severe anxiety caused by PTSD. "I expect it's probably also what's been causing your insomnia," he tells her.

"Isn't that what soldiers have?" Annabeth asks, tentative.

"It's common in people exposed to warfare, yes. But it can develop after any traumatic incident, no matter how minor those incidents may outwardly seem. I'd argue that finding your father's body was a traumatic incident, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, but…"

"You told me you've been experiencing a recurring, hyperbolic nightmare of when you first saw him on the steps. And this— _image,_ as you call it—also affects you in your waking moments. Right?"

She picks at her cuticle, trying to summon her voice again. "What are you saying?"

"Well, nightmares and anxiety attacks are symptoms of PTSD," Hale explains. Satisfied, he writes something down in his notepad. "I'll draw up a diagnosis," he murmurs to himself. After a moment, he lifts his gaze onto her again. It's piercing, but still warm. "What worries me is that you've fallen from being an exemplary student to someone who's achieving lower-than-average grades. And though you're refusing counselling, I still think you should try anxiety medication. If anything, it'll help you focus on school again."

"Medication?" Annabeth asks, a little stupefied. "I don't know if…"

"It says here you're on Triazolam to treat your insomnia," he continues. "That may complicate things as Xanax can cause side effects when used with it, but you should be fine. You're young and healthy, and we'll monitor you for the first couple weeks or so anyway. Sound alright?"

Annabeth nods mutely. "I guess so. If you think it'll help."

Hale calls Helen in from the waiting room to sign some forms of parental consent. She does so quietly, eyes empty but never drifting. When Hale asks her questions, she answers monosyllabically. Annabeth's pissed off. Even now that Hale's found that there's something wrong with her daughter, something fucked up that needs fixing, Helen doesn't seem fazed by it. In fact, there's no emotion in her face at all.

Annabeth doesn't know why she expected anything different.

On the way home from the clinic, Annabeth walks with her hand tightly closed around her paper bag of orange medication bottles. _Miss A. Chase_ is printed in tiny lettering on the crowded label of every single one. Anger seethes in her stomach, mostly directed at the woman walking beside her. "Annabeth?" Helen asks quietly. Her voice isn't timid, but it is vacant.

Annabeth responds with a curt, "What?'

"Is everything going to be fixed now?" It's the longest sentence Helen's said all day, but it instills no hope in Annabeth—the opposite, in fact.

"I don't know," she offers, but Helen doesn't reply. In silence, they walk on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> percy is honestly the sweetest :') just a short one today, but wednesday's upcoming chapter will be longer. let me know what you thought!
> 
> quick PSA: I finally made a tumblr so y'all can keep up with me! my url is stolen-arts and I'll be posting about pjo and the fics I write on there. come yell at me in my inbox, I'd love to talk to you :D


	20. the cost of hope

It's a little daunting taking a new medication that she knows nothing about, but the panic attacks are bad enough that Annabeth will accept any quick fix she can find. The first dose of Xanax she takes is a small one, but it relaxes her body and dilutes her mind in a new and beautiful way. It even blurs The Image, which is a mercy Annabeth hasn't been expecting but is grateful for. The anxiety doesn't go away completely, though. Some days she can't even bring herself to go into school, so she calls in sick and spends the day at home. Times like that are few and far between; her anxiety medication is a godsend. Still, it doesn't quite feel like enough.

Percy seems to notice an improvement, but he's still concerned. "You're different," he tells her one quiet evening. They're working through the Latin homework together, shoulder-to-shoulder on Annabeth's bed. Percy puts his pen down, distracted by whatever he sees on her face. "You're all…smoothed over."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Annabeth responds, crossing out a line of translation and writing the correct version below it.

"I'll let you know when I figure that out," he responds, gaze falling back down to his translations. "It is helping, though? You're feeling better?"

Annabeth looks up, trying for a half-smile. She fights off the urge to lie—Percy's capable of seeing right through her every time. She only wishes she had the same skill when it came to _him_. "I'm not sure," she says. "I'm not having attacks anymore, which is good. Amazing, even. But everything else still affects me: the nightmares, this anxiety that I can't fucking shake."

Percy's looking at her in that godawful, worried way of his. "You never look rested," he admits. "It scares me."

Annabeth will never say it, but it scares her, too. She doesn't recognise the face in the mirror anymore, with the deep under-eye bags and downturned mouth. She can't even remember what she used to look like, anymore. Sick of talking about herself, she changes the subject. "You can talk—haven't you worked late every night this week?"

Percy picks up his pen again, writing another line of translation in that chicken-scratch handwriting of his. "Yeah, well," he mutters. "Late nights are good for my savings account."

 _They're not good for you, though,_ she stops herself from saying. Instead, she leans into his shoulder, into his steady warmth and asks, "Have you done question twelve?"

* * *

October wears on, and Annabeth struggles to keep herself tethered to sanity by a few fraying threads. After a bad panic attack one morning, her psychologist temporarily increases her dosage to make up for what he believes might be a growing tolerance to the drug. The medication gives Annabeth the energising illusion of control; each dose is a moment to live in, more real than the air she breathes. Sometimes, probably inadvisably, she'll take twice her prescribed dose. It's the only thing that helps if she hasn't slept at all and her thoughts are running themselves ragged. It's definitely not a problem, though; in fact, it's a solution.

One thing, though—she hasn't taken a single photograph in months. Gone with her sober state of her mind is her natural creativity, and it kind of hurts. Photography is something she's always taken for granted, something she thought she'd always have on her side. Still, it's an easy sacrifice, just another loss to be cut when faced with feeling healed or feeling broken.

As Halloween dawns near, the excitement of the others becomes tangible. It's their favourite holiday, and Annabeth understands the sentiment. "Come on. You get to drink, you get to dance around like a crazy person—and the scary vibes are fucking _immaculate_ ," Leo tells her. They're sitting with Jason at their usual lunch table by the canteen window, waiting for the others to get their lunch.

Annabeth crunches into her apple, thoughtful. "Yeah, but it's just going to be like any other night out. We're too old to dress up. Isn't that gonna take some of the fun out of it?"

Jason raises a brow. "Speak for yourself. _I'm_ dressing up."

"Yeah, it's sophomore tradition," Leo says. "Everyone's going to the harvest festival in their costumes—and then get wasted in a field."

Annabeth laughs. "Sounds like fun. What are you guys going as, then?"

"Captain Jack Sparrow," Jason says casually, as though that isn't the funniest thing Annabeth's heard all day.

She snorts out a laugh. "I don't even wanna try and picture that."

"Well, _I'm_ thinking about going as Prince," Leo muses. "I've already got the hair, right? Find a purple jacket, maybe a guitar, and I'll be sorted."

Annabeth stares glumly at her half-eaten apple. "I dunno if I can be bothered to dress up."

"Hey, you guys talking 'bout the harvest festival?" Piper asks as she slides into the seat next to Annabeth, setting her pasta pot down on the table. "Do you think I should go as Catwoman? She's kinda hot." Cocking her head, she adds, "I reckon I could pull off leather pants."

"You think Jason'll survive that?" Annabeth whispers to Leo in a low voice, then laughs when Jason lands a hard kick on her ankle under the table.

"Shut up," he complains, then directs a smile at Piper. "Catwoman's a great idea."

* * *

When school ends, Annabeth gathers her books from her locker and yawns, mind sluggish after six hours of school. As she closes her locker and turns to walk down the crammed, noisy corridor towards the exit, Percy falls into step beside her. "Hey," he says, nudging her. "How was Math?"

"Don't ask," she mutters. He seems upbeat, which is weird for him. "You look happy," she observes.

"Yeah, my English essay got marked."

"So? What'd you get?"

He smiles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh—a B," he says, as though he can't quite believe it.

Annabeth stops in her tracks. "You're kidding," she says, bursting into a grin. "Percy, that's amazing!" As they step outside, they're instantly greeted by a rush of cool, autumnal air. The stone tiles of Mileview's courtyard are littered with fallen leaves in hues of mottled green and carmine.

"It's better than I thought I had any hope of getting," he admits. "It's all thanks to you, though. I wouldn't even know how to string two paragraphs if you didn't help me out so much."

"Stop being modest! You're good at English, and you know it." They walk past the school's bike rack, but Percy doesn't head over to grab his bike like he usually does. "You're not cycling today?"

He shakes his head. "Nah. The back tyre on my bike needs pumping and I didn't have time to do it this morning."

"What?" she asks, incredulous. "How did you get to your morning shift?"

"I walked—I had to wake up pretty early," he says. "Don't worry, though. I'll fix it later tonight, so it'll be good for tomorrow."

Annabeth nods, but she doesn't feel content. "I'll walk with you to your afternoon shift, then," she decides. "You're headed there now, right?"

His brows knot together, bunched-up and dark. "You don't need to," he tells her. "It's a pretty long walk."

"Exactly. I'll come, so you won't have to walk alone." That clearly isn't enough to convince him, so she adds, "I was gonna get a coffee from town—I might as well go to that place near the machine shop and keep you company while you work. Anyway, it's not like I've got anything better to do," she laughs as they walk past the bulletin board by the school gates.

Percy's attention is diverted by one of the posters tacked on the board. He stops to read it, chewing slowly on his lip. "Hey, this says they're looking for a few extra hands to help with the harvest festival," he says. "Twelve dollars an hour—that's good pay."

"Percy, you already work two jobs," Annabeth reminds him.

He rolls his eyes. "The job's only for the next few days, to help set everything up." He nudges her. "Wanna do it with me? It could be fun."

At his words, Annabeth is whisked back in time to fading, years-old memories of helping out at the festival with Piper and Leo when they were kids. Nostalgia tears through her, and she finds herself nodding. She smiles at Percy, grabbing the pen that's hanging from a string by the poster. "Sure, let's do it." She scrawls both their names and cell phone numbers on the sign-up form.

"I can't wait," Percy smiles. Cheeks already flushed from the cold, the two of them set off for the machine shop.

* * *

In the evenings over the next few days, Annabeth and Percy work hard on setting up the stalls in the fields. It's actually quite nice. They get to work side-by-side, and the labour doesn't seem like much when they get to talk and play music from Annabeth's speaker. Annabeth's never had a job before, which shouldn't be embarrassing—she's only fifteen, after all—but working with Percy feels weird knowing that, for years, he's had to work for a living. Due to the large trust fund left to Annabeth and her stepbrothers after their dad's death, there's technically no reason for her to be here. But to Percy, the twelve dollars they respectively earn after each hour of work probably mean the world.

They're lifting hay bales onto the back of a tractor, ready to be transported across the fields; they'll be used as seating in the festival. Percy lifts his side of the bale and grits out, "One, two, _three_." With a grunt, they heave the bale up onto the tractor's carrier. Percy grins at her as he wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead, clearly enjoying the physicality of the work. "You alright?" he asks. "You look pretty zoned out."

Annabeth looks up, letting out a startled laugh as she's jerked back to reality. "Yeah, I'm good," she answers, a little breathless from the exercise. She was thinking about her dad, putting together the pieces about how Frederick accumulated so much money. When she was a kid, she barely gave how well-off they were a second thought. Now, though, with the knowledge that her dad was wrapped up in crime…Annabeth's revulsed to consider how much of it could be blood money.

"We've still got a few more of these to lift," Percy says, gaze skimming over the pile of bales they had left. "Wanna take a quick break?"

"Sure," Annabeth says, a little relieved. They sit down on the bales together, legs swinging as they look out over Virginia's countryside. The sun has only just dipped below the horizon, its crimson light reflected by the sparse, pale clouds. It's beautiful, but Annabeth feels herself shiver as a breeze ripples over the prairie. Though she's wearing a jacket, it's easy to get cold once you've stopped moving around. She lets out a sigh, leaning against Percy's warm shoulder. "Aren't you cold?" she asks, gesturing to his bare arms.

He grins. "Nah, I'm warm-blooded. Unlike you, you reptile."

"Hey!" she protests, swatting him. He's right, though. As Virginia nears its winter season, the skin of her knuckles is cracking more and more—like drying clay. Almost subconsciously, she rubs at her hands, trying to coax the circulation back into them.

Percy looks over, concern in his eyes. "I think I've got some gloves," he says, then reaches over to where his jacket's been tossed over the side of a hay bale. After digging around in the inside pocket, he emerges victorious with a pair of black gloves and offers them to her. "They're kinda frayed, but…" He trails off.

"Thanks," she smiles, slipping them on. The fabric's blessedly warm around her stiff, cold fingers. "We should probably get back to it."

Percy's attention was lingering on her gloved hands, but he looks up in surprise at her words. "Uh. Yeah, we should." Together, they haul the rest of the bales up onto the back of the tractor. When they're done, Percy ducks into the tractor and hops into the driver's seat. It doesn't have doors, which was a little nerve-racking when they drove up here. "You coming?"

"I still can't believe they're letting you drive this thing," Annabeth mutters, clicking on the seatbelt.

"Hey, I'm qualified," he protests.

She scoffs. "You _fix_ cars—you don't drive them. Besides, this is a tractor."

"Come on, Annabeth," he says with a wicked grin, turning the keys in the ignition. Below them, the engine rumbles to life. "Live a little." He steps on the accelerator, and they surge forward.

"Oh, God," Annabeth shrieks as the tractor races down the incline towards the neighbouring field. Percy puts on more speed, whooping. His excitement's somehow infectious. Annabeth finds herself bursting into laughter, even though she's clinging on tight. As they enter the next field, they hit a muddy patch and swerve slightly. Percy manages to regain control and park the tractor where it needs to be, narrowly avoiding ploughing into a tree. "You're crazy," Annabeth gasps, undoing her seatbelt and stumbling out, heart pounding.

Percy losing it, laughing hard as he jumps out after her. "Oh, stop it. You had fun."

" _Life-threatening_ fun."

He rolls his eyes. Before she can react, he approaches from behind and grabs her around the waist. Her yells are interwoven with laughter as he lifts her off the ground, which does absolutely nothing to slow her soaring pulse. She kicks her legs frantically, but is laughing by the time he returns her to her feet. "Again, this is why you're fucking crazy," she grumbles, fighting off a smile.

He raises a brow, the corner of his mouth curving upwards. "Never said I wasn't," he says. "And if I am, then you definitely are."

* * *

At last, Halloween arrives. It's on a Saturday. The five of them spend the afternoon together, getting into their costumes. Piper and Leo are already a little tipsy, having had pre-drinks at Piper's house before heading to Annabeth's. Annabeth's leaning into the mirror in her room, occasionally glancing at the YouTube tutorial playing on her phone as she blends dark paint into the hollows of her cheekbones and around her eye sockets, a jagged contrast against the deathly white paint that bleaches the colour from her complexion. "That's so sick," Percy breathes. Annabeth grins, finishing the look with some glitter on her waterlines. The skeletal teeth painted around her mouth contort, wonderfully grotesque. Annabeth has to appreciate the virtues of SFX makeup; they're gonna get some awesome photos after this.

They're both going as skeletons—she did Percy's makeup, too. He looks positively terrifying; his naturally sharp cheekbones and jaw only add to the effect. While he's wearing an all-black suit they found in Helen's closet, she's wearing a black cowl-neck dress with fishnet tights. Honestly, the two of them look pretty cool together.

They head downstairs to find Leo, Jason and Piper dancing like mad people in the kitchen. It looks like Leo and Piper have managed to get Jason tipsy, if the almost-empty whiskey glass in his hand and the dopey expression on his face is anything to go by. Piper's the first to notice Annabeth and Percy enter the kitchen. Her jaw drops. "Fucking hell. You two look like horror movie twins—the good-looking kind," she assures them.

Percy whispers under his breath, " _Is_ there a good-looking kind?" At that, Annabeth stifles a laugh.

Piper's wearing black leather pants, a matching corset and a mask that extends into pointed, feline ears. She's Catwoman, through and through. As a matched pair, Jason's dressed as Superman; clearly, Piper convinced him not to try and pull off Jack Sparrow. Leo, on the other hand, is finely dressed as Prince. A cardboard guitar hangs from a strap over his shoulder, and the rhinestones on his purple jacket glint in the light. He and Jason are singing along to the song that's blasting from the radio, hanging off Piper's shoulders.

For a while, the five of them drink and dance together. At some point, though, Jason notices the clock that hangs on the wall above the door and grimaces. "It's already nine. We should head down to the festival."

Thalia drives them after a call from Jason, though she looks irritated. "Come on. I'm missing movie night with Reyna to drive you pricks." In chorus, they thank her as they get out of the car and head towards the festival.

Though it's a relatively warm night for late October, goosebumps still prickle Annabeth's arms. She's the only one who's not drinking; mixing anxiety meds and alcohol is never a good idea. It's fine, though. The Xanax has relaxed her even more than usual; she took a double dose earlier in the evening. She knows she shouldn't, but the warnings from Dr Hale aren't enough to dissuade her when there's so much to enjoy about the way it feels. And anyway, the others are far more intoxicated than her—so why should she care?

They dance in front of the stage for what feels like hours, then talk by the raging bonfire for longer than that. Percy's beautiful when he's drunk, she thinks: all loose smiles and sloppy laughter. The usually unwavering tension that lines his shoulders and the set of his jaw has utterly melted away. As he shouts with abandon at the top of his lungs and leans against Leo as drink sloshes out of their red cups, Annabeth can't stop herself from looking at him. In the firelight, the effect of the skull makeup on his face is enhanced—the planes of his face are jagged shadows, and his green eyes harbour an unending kind of depth.

She thinks she'll miss the way he looks tonight.

At one point, Leo slips off with a boy. "I'll be back, guys," he calls over his shoulder. The guy he's with is a little taller than him, and has black hair that casts shadows over his eyes. When he lifts a hand to wave at them, the silver ring on his hand stands stark in the crimson light.

Percy touches Annabeth's shoulder from behind. As she turns around, the song changes to a slower one. Above them, the clouds part to reveal a burgeoning half-moon. "Wanna dance?" Percy asks, his words slurred from all the drink. Annabeth takes his outstretched hand with a laugh, allowing him to spin her. Around her legs, her white, almost-reflective dress ripples like a whispering breeze. "How are you feeling?" he asks her.

She smiles, endeared. "It's Halloween—I'm feeling great. Why do you ask?"

"I dunno," he answers. With his Southern accent, the _I_ distorts into an _Ah_ sound. "You looked sad, for a moment there." He shakes his head. "Might've been my imagination."

She doesn't answer. To the left of them, someone throws a few more large logs onto the bonfire. It arcs up in flaming tendrils, even more blazingly hot than before. She slows down the dance, suddenly achingly tired. She wishes she was drunk like him, like Piper and Jason who've started kissing on a hay bale a few metres away. Maybe then, everything would be simpler.

The music picks up. With a grin, Percy spins her again, but at this point he's so uncoordinated that he ends up stumbling over her feet. "Whoa!" Annabeth cries, and the two of them fall to the mossy ground in a haze of laughter.

"Sorry," Percy groans, rolling off her. "I'm a mess, aren't I?"

She turns her head. "No, you're not." Stupidly, she has to fight off a giggle.

His eyes widen. "You're laughing at me."

"I'm not!" she protests.

"You _so_ are." Noticing the playful look in his eyes, Annabeth senses impending danger. She shrieks, trying to get to her feet. But before she can, Percy's grip locks around her wrist and he's dragging her down again.

"Hey!" she complains. Percy lets go of her, gaze trained on her face. He's gone a little slack jawed. Annabeth feels delirious with happiness. Dimly, she wonders if there'll be a cost for this newfound hope. It seems too good to be true: a glimmer of happiness in the shit-show her life has become. Suddenly, she registers that Percy's still watching her. "What?" she laughs.

Almost inaudibly, he swallows. "Nothing."

"God, you're so drunk."

"Whose fault is that?" he asks. "You're the one who gave me the fucking vodka."

"You didn't have to drink it," she accuses as they help each other to their feet. Piper and Jason call their names from where they're sitting, beckoning them.

He shoots her a look as they head over. "I _did._ Like you said, it's Halloween."

At one point, Annabeth leaves the others on a hay bale. They're still drinking—she's pretty sure Piper's thrown up a couple of times. Somehow, she's always rejuvenated after. "Well," Piper will always say as she refills her cup, "The night must go on!"

Annabeth wanders over to the tent where they're selling virgin cocktails, staring at her reflection in her compact mirror as she tries to fix her messy curls. Her SFX makeup is still mostly impact. As she closes her mirror, she sighs and joins the mojito queue.

While she's waiting in line, a hand closes suddenly around her shoulder. She turns, startled, to see the guy in the queue behind her. He's blond, and a scar's been gouged all the way down from one of his brows to his cheek. Annabeth double-takes; at first she thinks the scar's just Halloween makeup, but a second look convinces her that it must be real. "You make a cool skeleton," the guys says, giving her a smile. "That makeup's sick. Did you do it?"

"Yeah, I did," she says slowly. "Sorry, who are you?" With a shock, she realises the guy's pupils are blown so wide that she can't even tell what colour his eyes are. He's clearly under the influence of something—an observation that becomes even more plain when she notices the latent tremor in his hands and shoulders.

"I'm Luke," he answers. "And you?'

"Annabeth."

"You getting a mocktail?"

She folds her arms. "Why else would I be waiting in line?"

"So, you're not drinking." It isn't a question, but she shakes her head by way of answer anyway. "How come?"

"I can't right now." She doesn't elaborate. "From the looks of it, I'm guessing _you're_ not either."

He grins sharply. Paired with his enlarged pupils, the effect is animal-like. "Nah. There's better ways to distract myself."

Annabeth nods slowly. "Right."

She turns around, realising she's reached the front of the queue. "Wait," Luke says. He starts to say something else, before evidently stopping himself. He settles on, "I'll see you around, yeah?"

Silently, she nods. Once she's bought her mocktail, Luke's disappeared. Feeling uneasy, she heads back to the others. "Hey," Percy greets her. "Where'd you go?"

By way of answer, she shows him her drink. "Oh, right," he says. "Y'know, you missed Piper and Jason doing the tango."

"To what song?"

" _Young Americans_ ," he informs her, draping an arm over her shoulder. He's warm and soft around the edges—like burnt-away paper.

Annabeth laughs, allowing herself to lean against him. "You should've told them to watch the vodka."

He grins lazily, slipping his arm through hers. "If I did, I'd be a damn hypocrite."

"Yeah, you would," she says, poking him. Under the quiet light of the moon, they forget their inhibitions and return to the dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, let me know what you thought in the comments! I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you guys liked it. as usual, the next chapter will be up on sunday.
> 
> if you want, you can drop me an ask about this fic on [my tumblr](https://stolen-arts.tumblr.com) :D


	21. in heaven and earth

After the harvest festival, Virginia's weather worsens with each passing day as winter begins to encroach upon it. As the skies darken and the temperature drops, Annabeth becomes more and more reliant on her medication to keep her afloat. The days where Helen has the strength to even speak are few and far between.

Annabeth struggles to pick up the slack with Bobby and Matthew. She can tell they're scared of the implications of Helen's unintentional negligence; what if she never gets better? What then? The thought plagues Annabeth, but she does her best not to allow herself to dwell on it. It's only at night, when she's lying awake in bed, that her mind begins to run through every unique catastrophe that seems ever more likely to happen.

It's an aspect of her thoughts that only her medication can keep under control. Some days, when she can feel herself spiralling towards an attack, she'll take a double dose. Though she's aware taking Xanax in any way other than in the form in which it's prescribed is kind of fucking bad, it's the only thing that helps. _If I can just get through the rest of this year,_ she tells herself, _then maybe I'll try and stop._

She starts having attacks again, which—okay, she can deal with. Recently, she's learnt how to internalise the panic a little more, to minimise the racing of her heart and control her breathing. After a few minutes of not-talking, vacant eyes and clenched fists, she's usually able to come down from them. She doesn't think anyone can tell, except for maybe Percy. "Are you okay?" he'll ask quietly, holding her gaze with concern in his insufferably green eyes. He'll touch her wrist, the warmth of his fingertips a single-threaded lifeline. It helps. She'd never admit it to anyone, but it helps.

In early December, she heads out of school after-hours with her photography folder in one hand. Jason's next to her, carrying his own. They've been cramming work for their five-hour mock exam at the end of this week, which has been hell for Annabeth; lately, her creativity's been utterly absent. Most of the work she's done has been editing old photos into shape as she hasn't been able to bring herself to take many new ones—and she hasn't even been happy with those. Jason's holding his phone to his ear, brow furrowed as he talks to Piper in a low voice. "Yeah, I'll text you later," he says, then falls quiet again while she talks.

It's starting to drizzle. Annabeth sighs, glancing up to the grey skies with a silent prayer that the weather will hold out at least until she gets home. As she and Jason walk out of the school gates, she hears someone call her name. Across the road, a blond guy leans against the door of an open car. He raises two fingers to his temple in a mock-salute, and as he smiles the scar on his cheek twists out of shape. With a start, she realises it's Luke. Unsure what else to do, she offers him a wave with her free hand. Jason doesn't seem to notice, too wrapped up in his conversation with Piper.

She's spoken to Luke a couple times since Halloween. It seems like he's well-intentioned—and being a junior, he's not much older than Annabeth. Still, she's not sure what he wants with her. It's common knowledge that his friend group run in dodgy circles, and she knows she'd be stupid to get mixed up in that kind of stuff.

"Annabeth, you good?" Torn from her zoned-out headspace, she glances up to see Jason looking concernedly down at her. She didn't notice him finish his call with Piper.

Trying to shake Luke from her thoughts, she smiles and nods. "Yeah, I'm fine."

* * *

At last, winter break rolls around. It's a breath of air to have some time off school, though she hates being at home where she can't escape Helen's vacant eyes and empty voice. On the third day, though she wakes up to a banging on her door. Wondering who's at the door this early in the morning, she rubs her eyes and stumbles out of bed. Wrapping her dressing gown around herself, she hurries down the stairs as whoever it is knocks again—more frantically this time. "Who the hell?" she mutters to herself, fitting the key in the lock. When she opens the door, however, the irritation drains from her face. "Percy?"

He's standing at the door, bike leaning against the steps behind him. "Annabeth," he gasps. With a shock, she realises he's nursing his wrist. It hangs at a slightly odd angle. Pain is written all over his face, clear as day. "I'm sorry," he manages. "I didn't know where else to go."

"Oh, my god," Annabeth says, starting forward. "Your arm looks broken. Did you…did you _cycle_ here?" Percy nods, jaw locked in a grimace. "What happened?" she asks, incredulous.

His mouth stutters for a moment, opening and closing before he speaks. "Got it from some guys in the trailer park."

"They beat you up?" Horrified, Annabeth reaches for his arm but stops short, realising anything she does to help will be futile. "We need to get you to a hospital," she decides, slipping her phone out her pocket.

Suddenly, fear lances across Percy's expression. "No, wait. Don't call an ambulance."

She stares at him, mouth agape. "Why not? Can _you_ drive Helen's car?"

"Yeah, but—"

"With a broken arm?" At that, he's silent. "Didn't think so."

He looks pained, even more than before. "Please. I can't go to the hospital," he says. "I don't have health insurance. It'll cost so much more than I have."

She pushes down the frustration that threatens to well up into tears, willing herself to remain strong. "I'll call a cab, then."

"But—"

"Percy," she says quietly. Slowly, so as not to get overwhelmed. "I can't fix a broken bone. What I _can_ do is pay for your medical bills."

He's already shaking his head, stepping back like he wants to run. "No."

Annabeth isn't having it. Steeling herself, she says, "This is non-negotiable. You're hurt. This one time, this one _fucking_ time, can you please just let go of your pride?"

He searches her pleading face for a moment. Whatever he finds, it must be enough to convince him. With a sharp, ragged exhalation, he closes his eyes. "Okay." Knowing there isn't a second to waste, Annabeth opens her phone and calls a cab.

When they reach the hospital, it's a long and nail-biting process to get Percy through A&E. As it's so early, there luckily aren't too many people waiting; Percy's called in after half an hour. They initially tell Annabeth to wait outside while Percy is assessed, but he grabs her arm with his good hand and asks if she can stay with a shaky voice. Reluctantly, they allow it.

The doctors have all kinds of questions for Percy. _Where are your parents? Do you want us to contact them? How were you injured?_ He answers them calmly, with an empty kind of look on his face. _My stepdad's at work. No, he can't get off his shift. I crashed my bike._ It's unnerving to Annabeth, that he can lie so easily about that last one. Still, she understands why he doesn't want to mention that he got in a fight.

After a few X-rays, the doctors decide that Percy won't need surgery as it's a fairly simple fracture. They administer a local anaesthetic to numb his wrist while they re-set it, which takes longer than Annabeth anticipated. Once his wrist's been set, they wrap his arm in a plaster cast that extends all the way up to his elbow. "We'll be able to shorten the cast in a week or so," the doctor explains. "This is only to prevent you from moving it in the initial stages of healing."

"Will I be able to work?" Percy asks.

She fixes him with a look, clearly catching on. "Absolutely not. I would advise against working for at least the first few weeks. No physical strain, please." Percy nods in admission, but Annabeth knows there's no way he'll wait that long.

Once the whole process is done with, the nurse pulls Percy aside. Annabeth watches from the doorway, wondering what they're saying. The nurse looks worried, while Percy's expression remains perfectly blank. Talking animatedly, she offers him a yellow leaflet. Annabeth cranes to see what it says, but she's too far away. Percy seems to refuse it at first, but at the nurse's insistence Percy stuffs it into his pocket before turning around and heading for the door. "Thanks," he calls over his shoulder, voice hoarse.

"What was that she gave you?" Annabeth asks curiously as the elevator takes them down to the hospital's ground floor.

Evasively, he says, "Oh, it was nothing."

Deciding not to push, she nudges Percy. "So. You gonna let me draw on your cast?"

He looks down, as though he almost forgot it was broken. "Sure," he smiles. "Nothing rude, okay?"

She grins. "I wouldn't dream of it."

The elevator beeps, and the doors slide open with a metallic screech. He shakes his head, retorting, "You'd definitely be the one to draw, like, a dick or something."

"Come off it! Don't you remember that time Leo drew a moustache on your face with Sharpie while you were asleep?"

He rolls his eyes. "Annabeth, I _know_ that was you."

"Slander. Lies and slander," she mutters. Percy laughs, and suddenly the light's in his eyes again.

* * *

Percy goes back to work at Lucy's auto shop within a week, despite Annabeth's protests. "It's fine," he tells her. "My wrist's healing fast. And I can do the easy jobs with one hand, anyway." Annabeth's not happy about it, but there's nothing she can do to stop him. Work means everything to Percy—it'd be cruel of her to push any further.

It's a few days until Christmas, and Annabeth's sitting with him during a shift. She's trying to get her holiday work done, but for some reason she's struggling with the extract of _Hamlet_ she's analysing that lies open on her lap more that she thought she would. She's leaning against the side of the car Percy's working on, legs crossed beneath her. He's got the hood propped up to fix something wrong with the engine, and a smear of grease streaks his cheek. Everything seems to be taking him far longer with only one working wrist, but she hasn't heard him complain about it once. "Annabeth?" he asks. "Could you pass me the wrench in that toolbox next to you?"

She puts her pen down and reaches into the toolbox, then holds it out for Percy. "Here."

He stares at her for a moment, disbelieving. A slow smile stretches across his face. "What do you think that tool is?"

Annabeth looks down at the tool in her hand. "A wrench. Like you asked."

"You're holding a screwdriver, Annabeth," he says, stifling a laugh. Gesturing, he adds, " _That_ one's the wrench."

Embarrassed, she feels heat surge to her face. "Oh. Sorry." She passes him the correct tool, mumbling, "Well, now I feel stupid."

"Hey. Don't feel stupid," he tells her, serious. " _You're_ the genius here, not me." She hears something clank.

Letting out a sigh, she looks back down at her copy of _Hamlet_ and gets back to reading. _There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy._ She stares at the line for a moment longer. Unsure what to think of it, her thoughts begin to wander into distraction. She's feeling feverish today; she ran out of Xanax a couple days ago due to taking too many double doses, and now she's just trying to stick it out until her prescription allows her to top up again. She _knows_ it's bad, knows that being off her medication shouldn't be making her sweat. It was dumb of her to become so careless with it in the first place.

Annabeth just wishes she could talk about it with Helen. She misses the days of being able to go to her stepmother about anything, back when they were close. Back when they never felt the need to hide anything from each other. Of course, their situation isn't really a matter of hiding things—it's more like there's an opaque veil hanging between Helen and reality that even Annabeth can't breach.

She closes _Hamlet_ , leaning her head back against the metal of the car. There's no use dwelling on things that can't be changed.

"I think I'm done," Percy decides. Annabeth stands up as he closes the hood of the car, checking his watch. "Only went ten minutes overtime, too. Wait here," he tells her, grabbing his jacket. "I'll let Lucy know I'm signing off."

Five minutes later, they're walking out the gates. Percy hums along to the echoes of a song that was playing on the auto shop's radio, holding his cast against his sternum. "Wanna hang out in town for a while?" he asks. "I don't have to go home yet."

"Sure. We could share a coffee?" she offers. It's a trick she often uses—Percy never buys anything for himself but will give in if he's splitting the cost with someone else.

They find a brick wall to sit on, passing the coffee cup back and forth. Ahead, the sun hangs low in the sky. Its light reflects off the still-damp sidewalk, pale and glittering. It's getting colder as the evening wears on, and Annabeth's breath soon becomes stagnant and white with each exhalation. Percy takes a sip of the coffee, hands locked around the cup for warmth. "Mm," he hums. "I didn't realise how much I needed some caffeine."

Annabeth watches him for a moment. There's a yellowing bruise on his jaw: one of a few others she's noticed over the past month. She suspects he's been getting into fights again, but he clams up whenever she asks about it.

He passes her the coffee. She takes it, enjoying the warmth of its rising steam on her face. "I was meaning to ask—how's Helen been lately?" Percy says suddenly. "I know she's…" He trails off, as though he isn't sure how to phrase it.

Annabeth shakes her head. "She's not getting better. She's been seeing a therapist, but it doesn't seem to be working. They're calling her selectively mute, dissociative, all these fancy terms that are just a fucking cover-up for the fact that they have no idea how to help her."

Percy's expression looks conflicted. "What about you and your brothers? I know you've been doing your best to look after them, but you shouldn't have to do it alone."

Annabeth's shoulders curl in on themselves slightly. "I think we're just trying to hold on as long as we can. We haven't got any close relatives to stay with, and I don't want to leave Virginia."

"It won't come to that," Percy assures her, determined. "Helen will recover soon—we have to believe that she will." _We_. Though it's not obvious from the outside, Annabeth knows that Percy's also been grieving Helen's presence. She always treated him like a child of her own, was always just as affectionate with him as she was with Annabeth.

"I'm trying to believe it," Annabeth murmurs, "but it's been so long. I just—"

"Hey, no." He turns to her, fervent. "You shouldn't talk like that. Everything's gonna work out, I promise."

She breathes out a quiet, "Okay." Wordlessly, Percy slips an arm around Annabeth and lets her rest her head on his shoulder. There's a comfortable kind of ease in the simple action, and all at once Annabeth is warmer. "Can I see you on Christmas?" she asks.

"I don't think so," he apologises. "I'm working. Lucy's given me a bonus for the longer hours."

She looks up at him, hopeful. "The day after, then?"

He smiles quietly. "I'll try."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, let me know what you thought! I know this chapter's pretty sad, but everything's gonna be fine (eventually!)
> 
> the next chapter will be up on wednesday as usual. you can come talk to me about this fic on [my tumblr](https://stolen-arts.tumblr.com) :D


	22. violence remembers

It's January. Percy's on a late shift at _The Winehouse,_ wiping down the counter with a damp cloth. He's got his cast off, but he doesn't think his wrist has healed quite right. It twinges at the joint when he uses it, an echo of how hard he pushed it in the weeks when he should've rested. There was no way around it, though; Percy had to make up the money he lost in the first week he couldn't work, and the pain of his wrist wasn't going to stop him doing that.

When it happened, he lay on the floor of the kitchen for what felt like hours after Gabe left for his shift. The pain was worse than any Gabe had dealt him before, and it took a monumental effort to struggle to his feet, wrist held limply against his chest, and cycle to Annabeth's house.

He thinks that was the most terrifying day of his life. Having to lie to the doctors and nurses about how he sustained the injury, even to Annabeth for the thousandth time. He remembers avoiding all eye contact when she took him aside and offered him that bright yellow leaflet with _Are you experiencing domestic violence?_ printed in horrifyingly bold font on the front. Having to lie again, tell the nurse that she had nothing to worry about. He threw the leaflet away as soon as he got the chance, of course—the thought of Gabe finding it was stupefying. Percy couldn't risk it.

As he finished wiping down the counter, there's a chime as the door of the diner is pushed open. He glances up to see Piper and Annabeth walk through it. They're laughing, and Annabeth breaks into a smile when she spots Percy behind the counter. "Hi," she greets him. A textbook's tucked under her arm, and Percy assumes they came here to study.

"Hey, guys. What's up?" he asks.

Piper leans on the counter. "How's your shift going?"

"Alright." He checks the clock on the wall. "I've got about an hour left."

"Can you make us two of those special strawberry and chocolate milkshakes you do?" Piper asks, grinning.

"Pipes, you know that's not actually on the menu. I made it for you _once_ —"

Giving him puppy-dog eyes, she clasps her hands together. "Please?"

He sighs. "Fine. But you better tip me."

She pouts. "When don't I tip you?"

Crossing his arms, he fires back, "Like all the damn time."

"Don't worry, I'll remind her," Annabeth cuts in, stifling a laugh. "We'll be studying at that table over there. You should come join us after your shift. We've got that Latin test tomorrow, remember?"

"God, I forgot about that," he groans. "I left my notes in school."

"It's okay, you can use mine," she assures him.

Across the diner, Tallulah yells, "Jackson, you better not be wasting time by chatting to your friends again."

"I'm not, don't worry!" he calls back.

"We'll stop distracting you," Annabeth apologises with a smile. Piper's already dragging her over to their usual table. He gives her a wave, smiling as he turns around to the sink and washes out his cloth. While he cleans the dirty glasses stacked on the counter, he watches Annabeth and Piper over his shoulder. Annabeth's talking animatedly, pen in her hand. Though she's clearly trying not to show it, it's obvious how tired she's been recently—to Percy, anyway. The half-moons under her eyes are darker and more prominent than usual, and there's a taut sort of tension in the set of her shoulders that he often notices in Annabeth when she hasn't gotten enough sleep.

Percy knows he's the only person who knows how bad Annabeth's anxiety got at the tail-end of last year. It seems to have improved recently, which Percy suspects is due to her meds. He's glad that something's working for her, but he also hates the way her hands shake and her demeanour changes when she's not on them. And, God, he can always tell when she isn't. Maybe it isn't normal to notice so much about your best friend, but Percy's known her for so long that it's difficult _not_ to.

She seems distant, recently. More closed-off. Not in the physical sense; she hangs out with him as much as she always has. Even more, probably. But Percy suspects she might be retreating into herself again, shutting herself off. It's terrifyingly reminiscent of the way Helen looks sometimes. But hell if Percy's going to let that happen to Annabeth. She has him, and that has to be enough.

He fills the sink with soapy water and settles into washing the glasses with a steady, mechanical efficiency. It's how he always works, the only way he knows how to work. His motivation behind it is the same overriding force behind all his decisions: earn money for his savings, which adds fuel to the fire of his constant, burning desire to get the hell out of the trailer. Out of Virginia. _To Neverland,_ he remembers Annabeth saying a long time ago, when they were just kids. That was a formative memory. Now, the hope of living on his own seems just as unattainable in comparison with that far away, blazing fairy-tale world.

Not entirely unattainable, though. Not entirely. He finishes with the glasses and switches places at the till with Maria, who's taking her break. As he takes orders and prints receipts, it's an effort to stop his gaze from wandering over to Annabeth again.

* * *

On the weekends, Percy usually hangs out with Leo and Jason at the skate park. They've been trying to teach Jason to skate, but the combination of Percy and Leo's subpar teaching skills and Jason's natural incoordination makes him even more of a hopeless case than Annabeth. Still, relentlessly forcing Jason to practice seems to be working. "Whoa," Jason shouts, trying to keep balance as he edges his board over the ramp.

When he makes it to the bottom without injury and with both his feet on the board, Percy whoops. "Yeah, you did it!" Skating up the side of the ramp, Percy gains momentum and flips his board, landing with ease halfway down the incline.

"Show-off," Jason grumbles.

A few paces away, Leo's fiddling with his speaker. It croaks out static for a moment before connecting to his phone. Victorious, Leo leaves it propped up against the ramp and grabs his skateboard. Singing along to the lyrics, he pushes off and skates in a circle around Percy and Jason. "Wanna try again?" he calls to Jason.

Jason sighs, pushing his damp, slightly sweat-soaked bangs away from his face with the back of his wrist. "Yeah. In a while, though. I need a break."

They sit up on the top of one of the ramps, legs dangling off the side. "Wanna go to the movies later?" Leo asks, swinging his legs in time with the music. "Now Piper's got a job at the cinema, she might give us our tickets for free. Or at least with a fucking—staff discount, or something."

"Yeah, sure," Jason answers. "But I'm not sharing popcorn with you again, man. Remember last time? You flipped out at a jump scare and threw popcorn all over the row in front of us."

Leo grins, unembarrassed. "That was a horror movie, okay? I don't do well with those."

Percy cocks a brow. "You wouldn't stop screaming when we watched _Point Break."_

Glaring at him, Leo protests, "Because it was scary! Keanu Reeves literally jumped out of a plane."

Jason snorts. "Bet you would've cried if he died."

"Well, at least I own my feelings," Leo decides. "Masculinity's toxic, you know." While the two of them continue to argue, Percy's attention is diverted across the park. He can see three figures walking along the grass. To his surprise, he realises it's Ethan, Luke, and Annabeth. Annabeth's talking to Luke, hands in the pockets of her hoodie. He wishes he could tell what they're saying.

Luke's in Annabeth's homeroom, and it's been weird to watch them become friends. Percy doesn't know much about Luke other than what other people have told him from his preceding reputation for using substances. But if he's honest, that isn't much of an irregularity at Mileview anyway. Most of the kids in his year are pretty rich; both being able to afford shit and being friends with dealers can be tempting.

But Annabeth isn't like that. And it's not like Percy gets to dictate who she's friends with, anyway—not that he'd even want to. And he's glad that she's got people to take her mind off her anxiety, to help keep her sane. If being friends with Luke is helping her cope, then Percy's happy she found him.

Jason and Leo's conversation draws to a halt; it seems they've noticed Annabeth, too. "It's so strange to see her hanging out with him," Leo muses. "They're, like, such different people."

"Are they, though?" Jason wonders. "Besides, people do stupid shit when they're grieving."

Percy's turns towards Jason, jolting. "What? You think she's—"

"Doing drugs with them?" Jason snorts. "Please. Thalia became friends with his group after Mom died, and within a month she'd tried all sorts of shit. If she knew Annabeth was hanging out with him, I doubt she'd be pleased." He pauses. "'Course, maybe Luke's different now. That was a while ago, after all."

"Oh," Percy murmurs. His eyes snag on Annabeth again. Hands in the pockets of her cornflower blue hoodie, she laughs at something Ethan says. She doesn't seem any different. Or at least, he doesn't see her in any kind of new light. He's aware that most people in his year who use drugs know how to be careful and take them seriously.

Still. It scares him. He sighs heavily, letting his chin thump onto the railing in front of him. Beside him, Jason and Leo share a look. "Of course _you'd_ be the one to overthink this," Leo snickers. Jason kicks him, holding his finger to his lips.

Percy narrows his eyes at them. "What do you mean by that?"

Jason leans back against the railing, fiddling with his undone shoelace. "It's not important."

Irritated, Percy decides to push. "I wanna know. Spit it out."

Leo glances at Jason, then sighs. "I just meant…" He trails off. "Well, you and Annabeth."

"What about me and her?"

"You're different around her. All—happy _,_ or some shit."

It clicks. Percy rears back, incredulous. "You're saying I like her?" He scoffs in dismissal. "You're crazy. We've been friends for so long. Anything like that would be fucking weird."

Leo raises his palms in surrender. "Whatever you say. But we wouldn't have noticed it if there was nothing there."

Anger lances through Percy. He bites it back, folding his arms. "Well, there _is_ nothing there." For a few long, dragging seconds, the three of them are silent as they ruminate on Percy's words. Percy glances back over at where Annabeth's sitting, legs crossed as she talks. Her hair's been swept up into a high ponytail, and it's longer than it's been in a while. Tearing his gaze away, he closes his eyes for a second. Annabeth's his best friend, and there the line is drawn. That's how it's always been.

Softly, Jason speaks up. "Percy?"

"What?" he asks, a vicious tone in his voice. He swallows it back, hating that the urge to protect himself surges up through his throat like bile.

Jason doesn't start, only inclines his head in an _it's okay_ kind of gesture. "You know you could tell us, right? If you did like her?"

Percy picks at his fraying cuticle, unable to look at either of them. "Quit being stupid," he mutters, grabbing his board as he stands. "Let's just skate."

* * *

That night, Percy's late home from his shift. He doesn't mean to be, but the tyre on his bike goes flat on the way back so he ends up having to wheel it the rest of the way. The dark skies are drizzling with rain, and mud sprays up onto his trouser cuffs as he runs through the trailer park's gate. As he goes through the motions of locking up his bike and fitting his key into the lock, he braces himself. The lights are on inside the trailer; Gabe's still awake, despite Percy's hope that he might've already passed out.

Percy opens the door slowly and tentatively, wondering if he can make it into his room quietly. His stepdad's standing in the kitchen, back turned as he shouts into his phone. "I don't give a shit if you're not available to supervise in my place tomorrow night! I've got a poker tournament. You want me to lose money so I can look after a bunch of teenagers stacking shelves?" He pauses to listen, his anger stark as day in the rippling clench of his fist. "Get someone else to cover, then. Don't you dare hang up on me. Don't you dare—" Letting out a guttural sound of frustration, he slams his phone down onto the counter. He spins around, and his eyes lock onto Percy. "You! What the hell are you doing back so late?"

Percy freezes, a deer in the headlights. He opens his mouth and closes it again, struggling to form a response. "My bike wheel went flat," he stutters.

Gabe scoffs, striding forward and jabbing a finger into Percy's chest. He's clearly pissed off, in a rotten mood from his work call and on the hunt for somewhere to direct his anger. "And that's why you're…" He glances up at the battered clock hanging above their fridge, scowling. "Two hours late, huh? You told me your shift ended at nine. Have you been picking up more behind my back?"

Percy feels the blood drain from his face. "No, of course not. I just worked a little overtime."

"Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not—" Without warning, he shoves Percy into the door. The wind's blown out of his lungs. "I'm not," he repeats, voice rasping.

"You think you can talk to me like that, huh?" Gabe snarls, taking hold of Percy's collar. "You thought you could waltz in here hours late, that I wouldn't notice you're hiding shifts from me again? Where the hell's that money going? Huh?"

Percy's already shaking his head, but Gabe's too fired up. There's nothing Percy can say, now; he's walked into a perfect storm. "Nowhere. It's not…I don't even—" He cuts himself off, knowing he sounds senseless.

"What the fuck are you up to? Tell me!" Percy doesn't even have time to brace himself before Gabe's pulling back his fist, landing a harsh punch to Percy's gut. He doubles over, groaning. "Tell me, you selfish little shit," Gabe spits, slapping him hard across the face.

It's all Percy can do not to clutch at his stinging cheek. "I'm not up to anything, I swear!"

He barks a laugh. "You couldn't sound more guilty if you tried." Percy can taste blood in his mouth and his vision's gone blurry, which is more a facet of his fear that the far-away pain. "Tell me," Gabe hisses, "or I'll make you regret staying silent." He grabs Percy's left wrist—the one that was broken only a month ago—and squeezes hard.

Percy cries out, "God!" He tries to free his arm from Gabe's grasp, but that just hurts even more. When Gabe yanks him forward, Percy can't hold back the ragged sound of pain that claws its way up his throat. "Let go," he gasps out. "Please, it's still healing."

Even as he says it, Percy knows how childish he sounds. Gabe _knows_ how much it hurts. That's why he won't let go, why he grips Percy's wrist even harder and twists it with conscious brutality. A grim smile of satisfaction contorts Gabe's features, and he prolongs the torture for another one, two, three seconds as Percy screams. At last, he relents. "Fucking pathetic." Percy collapses to his knees, cradling his burning wrist.

He blinks hot tears out of his eyes, struggling for breath. Dimly, he registers Gabe walking away and sitting down heavily on the sofa, switching on the TV. Percy stifles a sob, wishing he could turn invisible or melt into the fucking floor. With the last dredges of his strength, he struggles to his feet. His arm's throbbing with a new, wretched kind of pain. Vision tilting, he somehow makes it to his room and closes the door behind him as quietly as he can.

Collapsing on his bed, he touches an unsteady fingertip to his bruised lip. It comes away a stark, violent red. His wrist is limp and swollen, all but immovable. He hopes to God it's not broken again; he doesn't want to go back to the hospital.

Exhausted, he stares at the ceiling. It's distorted, a reflection of his haywire mental state. Next year. Next year, he'll have the money to move out. He'll be over sixteen, and Gabe won't be able to stop him. This isn't living; Percy knows it's not, but he's only got to hold on for a little longer. He'll make it out of his own accord, and then no one ever has to know about any of it. He'll survive, and eventually violence will forget his name.

With his good arm, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He's not certain what possesses him to do it, but he's so out of his head that his hand moves of its own accord. With shaking fingers, he clicks on Annabeth's contact and swallows, holding the phone to his ear. It rings and rings for what feels like forever, then drones into her familiar voicemail. " _Hey, it's Annabeth. Leave a message, I'll get back to you soon!"_

He flips his phone shut, closing his eyes tight until faint, swirling shapes achingly form on his retinas. "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you," Percy mumbles, but he doesn't know who he's talking to anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all, I am so sorry. thanks for reading? xD
> 
> let me know what you thought! the next chapter will be up on sunday as usual. you can keep up with me on [my tumblr](https://stolen-arts.tumblr.com) where I post pjo content and ramble about writing :)


	23. regarding creation

Annabeth's lying on her bed at seven o'clock on a Friday, limbs sprawled out and face half-pressed into her pillow. Lethargy has seeped into her bones, and it's hard to do anything except ignore the texts from Percy and the others that have been lighting up her phone. She hasn't been into school for the last three days. Instead, she's been calling in sick every morning, too overwhelmed to face reality. She doesn't even have to feign illness to Helen—her stepmother never notices anything anymore.

A thousand things are weighing on Annabeth's mind. Her father, the dwindling bottle of anxiety medication sitting by her bedside, even the weeks of photography homework she hasn't been able to do. Since she went on Xanax, her creativity's seeped away. The simple act of composing a photograph and then immortalising the scene with a click of a button has somehow turned into the hardest thing in the world. She's beginning to wonder if she's really cut out to do photography as a career. If she's no longer good at it, is there any point in trying?

Annabeth closes her eyes. This happens sometimes—being unable to convince herself to leave the house, to speak, to even contact her friends. Whenever she caves in and ends up shooting a text to one of them, she always ends up feeling guilty. It's one thing knowing you're in a bad headspace, but it's another thing entirely to willingly drag the people you love down with you.

Talking to Dr Hale isn't helping anymore. She doesn't even know how to voice the way she feels, and the only solution he ever comes up with is to up her dose. After a month or so of him pushing her to give counselling a try, she assented. Still, she couldn't keep that up for long; the sickly-sweet demeanour and kind words of the counsellor made her feel dirty. Eventually it became too much to handle, and she stormed out of the third session in a rage.

Annabeth hears her bedroom door open, and she cracks her eyes open to see Matthew standing behind the door. Mousy-brown curls a mess, he clings to the door and tilts his head. "What?" she mutters. "Go away. I'm napping."

He pauses. "But the light's on."

"I _know_ that. God. What d'you want?"

"Nothing. I just—" He chews on his lip. "You haven't left your room all day."

"Well, I'm sick," she says.

Matthew nods slowly, though she knows he's not stupid enough to fall for that. "You're not gonna become like…like Mom, are you? You're okay. Right?"

Annabeth heaves a sigh, but manages a smile. "Right, Matty." She turns over. "Now, go away and let me sleep."

"Okay," he mumbles, tentatively closing the door behind him with a quiet _click_. Annabeth doesn't move for a few long, suffocating moments, taken over by the hollowness in her ribcage. Suddenly, her phone starts ringing. It's lost somewhere in her sheets. Irritated, she scrabbles around until she finds it, lifting the screen up to her face as the ringing stops. _One missed call from Luke_ , reads her most recent notification. She stares at it for a moment, brain fighting past inertia to form a coherent thought. Dimly, she remembers Luke mentioning to her that he and his group were going out tonight—he probably called to check if Annabeth was available.

Her first instinct is to ignore it in exactly the same way she's been ignoring everyone else. Her second thought, however, is that he'll probably be doing shit tonight. Annabeth's gaze flutters sideways to the almost-empty bottle of Xanax on her bedside. It's slightly blurred, too close for Annabeth's eyes to see clearly.

Lately, The Image has been haunting her. The medication has been helping with her anxiety surrounding it, but it's never gone away. Her nightmares about it are just as vivid as they've ever been. The kinds of drugs Luke does on nights out might help distract her from herself, at least for a little while. In the past, she never thought she'd try anything like that. But then again, everything's changed so much. She's alienated herself from her friends in her stupid, irrational fear of hurting them. Now, it feels like the only person she has to fall back on is Luke. Someone she doesn't care about, who doesn't care about her in return. A distraction incarnate.

Right now, all Annabeth knows is that she wants to get out of her head. She clicks _Call Back_ and holds the phone to her ear. He picks up only a moment later. Voice hoarse, she asks, "Luke?"

They arrange to meet in an hour. Ethan will be there, as well as some others in Luke's group that Annabeth doesn't know too well. "It's okay, they're friendly," Luke reassures her. Annabeth doubts that, but she's far from caring. After changing into some clean clothes, wrestling her hair into a ponytail and applying enough concealer to hide the dark circles under her eyes, she heads out. Helen half-lifts her head from where she's laying on the couch when Annabeth passes, but she says nothing. Eyes glazed over, she goes back to staring into the TV screen.

Darkness has fallen by the time Annabeth reaches the park where she's meeting Luke and the others. They're hanging out by a bench, talking and smoking cigarettes. Luke's wearing a black baseball cap, and his blond hair peeks out like a shock of light from underneath it. "Hey," she calls as she approaches.

Luke spins around, grinning when he sees her. "Oh, Annabeth! Glad you made it out. I was worried. I haven't seen you in school for a few days." There's a girl and a guy Annabeth doesn't know sitting on the bench, while Ethan's standing with Luke.

"I was feeling under the weather," she says with a shrug. "I'm better, now. How've you been?"

Luke smiles, putting his arm around her and bringing her closer to the group. "I've been excellent. Charlie, Silena, this is Annabeth. She's gonna be out with us tonight."

Silena waves at Annabeth, her cigarette glowing red-hued in the darkness. "Thank God, I'll have another girl to hang out with," she says. "There's too much testosterone out here."

Annabeth laughs, already lightening up. Charlie—the guy sitting beside Silent—pouts. "Hey. I thought you liked hanging out with me."

Silena rolls her eyes, but gives him a kiss on the cheek anyway. "Of course I do, dummy. I don't know why, but—"

She bursts into laughter when Charlie playfully grabs her around the waist. "You take that back!"

Annabeth casts a look at Luke. He grins. "Yeah, they're always like this. Anyway—wanna hear the plan?"

The _plan_ , as it turns out, is to head up to a hidden clearing out in the country. They hang out there a lot, but Luke says that tonight's gonna be different. Some of his friends will be setting off fireworks, and Luke insists that watching fireworks when you're fucked off your head is an out-of-body experience. "Isn't that dangerous?" Annabeth asks, but excitement's already building in her fingertips.

"Maybe," Luke tells her. "But isn't that the fun of it? _Life_ isn't safe. Once you've gotten over that, everything's better." Strangely, Annabeth finds herself agreeing. He offers her a tiny, paper-wrapped package of white powder even smaller than the nail of her pinkie. "It's ecstasy," he tells her. "You don't have to take it. But if you do want to, take it now—it'll hit a while after we get there."

Annabeth looks at it for a long moment, then glances up to meet Luke's pale, blue eyes. For the last few months, she's felt desensitised. Useless. Hollow. If this'll make her feel something _good_ again… "I won't die, right?"

He cocks a brow. "C'mon. I wouldn't give you something that'd kill you, Bethany." When she's silent, he lowers his hand. "Don't you trust me?"

Annabeth grins, shaking her head. "Never call me _that_ again, and I'll trust you all you want." She takes the tiny package and the bottle of water he offers her, swallowing it and washing it down with the same muscle-memory she uses to take her anxiety meds.

"You're a natural," Silena comments. "The first time I bombed MD, it exploded in my mouth."

"Hey, at least you didn't throw up," Ethan says.

"I almost did. It tastes like utter crap."

The five of them head to the clearing, talking loudly and singing along to the music coming from Ethan's speaker. Above their heads, the moon's almost full. It's a nice night for the end of January, but Annabeth's hands still become painful and cold due to the exposure. The skin of her knuckles hasn't smoothed out all winter.

Luke notices her rubbing them together as they cross a road, leaving the town for the countryside. "You get cold hands, too?" he asks.

Annabeth nods. "Yeah—they're always super painful when I'm not wearing gloves."

"I get that," he says, showing her his dry hands. "But don't worry," he adds. "You'll forget all about the cold soon."

To reach the clearing, they have to weave through foliage and duck under some fences, but Annabeth doesn't mind it. It feels nice to be out the house, to finally have fresh air in her lungs and exhilaration pooling in her stomach. The MD hasn't hit her yet, but the anticipation of it is a rush. She can do this. She knows she can.

At last, they emerge into the clearing. Trees arch overhead, a living ribcage, and moonlight ripples through their evergreen leaves to pool on the mossy ground around. Vines hang down like stalactites. It's beautiful, but the sky's almost completely hidden from sight. "We're not gonna be able to see the fireworks from here," she points out.

"Oh, I know," Luke says. "When we're ready, we'll head to the vantage point." _The vantage point?_ Annabeth wonders silently, but bites back the questions that leap to her tongue. She'll find out soon enough, anyway.

Ethan changes the song, and the others whoop. It's one Annabeth hasn't heard before, but their excitement is infectious and she finds herself dancing along with them. Luke takes her hand, spinning her, and a genuine laugh surges up through her throat. There's already a looseness to her jaw, and a distinct unawareness has rippled over her consciousness like a warm blanket.

"Is it starting to hit you?" he asks. "Let me see your eyes." Unable to fight off the stupid grin that tugs at her mouth, she opens her eyes a little wider for him to see. Luke studies her for a second, then laughs. "It's hit you, alright."

He, Silena, Ethan and Charlie aren't far behind. Time melts into itself, becoming nothing but the slight shudder of Annabeth's jaw and the affected voices of the others. Her limbs feel lighter than air, looser than they have in a long time. "Don't you feel like you could fly?" Silena asks her, linking her arm through Annabeth's. Silena's pupils are blown out, flooded with pitch.

"Yeah, I bet we could," Annabeth smiles back. They sit down together on a root, watching the guys mess around. Charlie and Ethan hoist Luke up onto a tree branch, where he pumps his fist and yells out. Annabeth doesn't even worry that he's gonna fall—all those thoughts have deserted.

Silena rolls a fresh cigarette, and the two of them sit there for a while talking. Their conversation's rambling and strange, but Annabeth feels like this is a pretty good way to get to know someone. Suddenly, Annabeth has a revelation. Right now, she can't envision The Image—not even a distorted, messy version of it. Her mind's eye is vacant, unpolluted by her anxiety or anything like it. "I can't see it," she says to herself. Voicing the realisation out loud somehow makes it even more impossibly real.

"What?" Silena asks, glancing up from where she's re-lighting the stub of her cigarette.

Annabeth stands up, giddy. "Nothing," she says, but she still can't stop smiling. Suddenly, a bang echoes from somewhere past the clearing. Annabeth whips around, locking onto its direction.

"They're setting them off," Luke calls. He swings down from the tree, stumbling slightly with inebriation.

He heads deeper into the clearing, closely followed by Charlie and Ethan. "Alright!" they whoop.

Annabeth grins. "Let's go," she says, pulling Silena to her feet. Together, they hurry after the others. The arching trees of the clearing slowly open out, revealing more and more of the glittering sky. As she walks, Annabeth finds herself gazing up at the glistening stars. They're so much brighter than normal, shifting and changing with every blink.

Annabeth stops walking, enchanted. "Come on," Silena laughs, tugging her along.

At last, the trees open out onto the edge of an incline. Annabeth loses her breath momentarily; they can see right out across the prairies of Virginia. "Wow," she murmurs. Right then, a firework goes off from somewhere in the fields. It spirals upwards, screeching, before exploding outwards like a drop of dye in water. If Annabeth squints, she can see figures hanging around a white van parked on a country road. She can hear faint shouts, and then another firework goes off—a vivid cobalt blue. After burning bright for a few moments, it slowly fades away.

Luke nudges her. "Cool, right?" As he speaks, they set off several more fireworks at once. Annabeth can only nod, enraptured.

The hours blur beautifully into themselves after that, and it's long past midnight when Luke walks Annabeth home. She's beginning to come down, but the sweet residue of the night is still heavy on her tongue. She knows she'll feel like shit in the morning, but she doesn't have to think about that right now. "Thank you," she tells Luke with a smile as they walk shoulder-to-shoulder through town. "For tonight. I feel better than I have in a while."

That seems to please him. He smiles quietly, gaze lingering on the ground beneath them. He's walking unevenly, stepping on every crack in the concrete. "I'm glad it helped. You're lucky. Sometimes it can make everything worse."

Annabeth shakes her head. "Nah. I felt fucking…invincible, or something. That was a really nice distraction."

"Anytime," he smiles. As soon as he says it, Annabeth can no longer hide from the inevitability that this will happen again.

It does.

* * *

February rolls around without Annabeth's knowledge. Her attention's averted by other things. Every weekend, there's a fresh sore on her gum, fresh scrapes on her arms and ankles. Her body probably hates her, and she doesn't even blame it. Going out and losing all presence of mind to the chemicals Luke offers her is the only thing keeping the bad thoughts at bay, but, God—it sure does hurt sometimes.

She barely ever sees Percy anymore. It's difficult to scrounge up the energy to visit him during his shifts like she always used to, but he hasn't said anything to her about it. Maybe he's disgusted by her. Maybe they all are. Annabeth's disgusted with herself, sometimes, but Luke isn't. He sees right through her and knows what she is—a sticky mess of flaws, a bomb waiting to go off—and doesn't judge her, because he's exactly the same fucking way. It's comforting, actually. Who cares if Luke's around to witness her self-destruction? He destroyed himself first.

It's the morning after a night out, and she's sitting with Luke on the wall outside his house. He lost his key, and his foster mom isn't home. Neither of them have gotten a wink of sleep, and the sun's already risen. Annabeth feels like shit. She's pretty sure it's reflected on the outside as well, if her under-eye bags in the reflection of her phone screen are anything to go by. He's working on a cigarette, swinging his legs. "Hey, Bethany," he says suddenly.

 _Bethany_ has become his nickname for her, and Annabeth's learned not to question it. She can't quite figure out if it's annoying or endearing. "What?"

"If you could be in a movie, what movie would you wanna be in?"

She stifles a laugh. Luke's always asking questions, and they range from existential to utterly random. "I don't know. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. C'mon, think about it."

She hums, gaze tilted up towards the grey skies. " _Requiem For A Dream_ ," she decides, a shit-eating smile on her face.

He snorts. "Fucking 'course."

"I'm kidding, God. What about you, then?"

"Probably _Harry Potter_ ," he says, without a trace of irony.

Annabeth laughs. "Yeah, I can imagine you as a Death Eater." He elbows her, and she almost falls off the wall. "Hey!" she defends. "You're the one who said _Harry Potter_ in the first place."

Rolling his eyes, he relents. "Whatever." It's starting to rain. The drops are already falling hard and fast, lashing Annabeth's skin. "Shit," Luke mutters, peering up at the sky. "Have you got an umbrella?"

"Of course."

Relieved, he says, "Great! Get it out."

She stares at him, incredulous. "I was being sarcastic. I didn't even bring a coat 'cause I thought we were gonna be able to hang out at yours, Mr _Shit I Lost My Key_."

"Alright, alright! Don't rip into me." He stands up, putting up the hood of his windbreaker. "I know where we can go. C'mon."

Luke leads them to a disused bridge by the wayside. There are large, curved nooks in its structure, and it's easy for them to pull themselves up to sit inside. Annabeth leans against the stone wall, wringing out her soaked curls. She's cold and shivering, her hoodie completely sodden through. The rain isn't even beginning to abate. The sound of it pattering on the bridge above them sounds almost like faint, silenced bullets.

Annabeth leans her head back, fighting the headache that's beginning to settle over her. On her comedowns, The Image always comes back in full force. She picks at her fraying nail, using the slight spark of pain as an anchor. The smell of her dad's blood and the coffee she spilt over herself suddenly returns, like déjà vu. She closes her eyes, wishing it would go away.

"You're seeing it?" Luke asks, voice matter-of-fact.

Annabeth's mentioned The Image to him a few times, but never in much detail. Talking about it makes her feel like a mad person. "Yeah," she answers, opening her eyes again.

He nods slowly. Then, without warning: "Bethany. Did I ever tell you about my mom?"

"Your mom?" Annabeth shakes her head. All she knows is that Luke lives apart from her, and that's obvious from any standpoint. Luke takes a green slip of Rizla out of his pocket, then a filter, then a pinch of baccy. When he starts rolling the cigarette, Annabeth's half-certain he's doing it purely to avoid her gaze.

"When my dad left, she started having these… _fits,_ I guess you'd call them. She'd stumble around the house, eyes dazed. She'd mutter, calling for me. I was too young to fully clock what was going on, so I'd just hide in the cupboard until she went back to normal. One day, she nearly burned the house down during a fit. After the firefighters left, the police came. They booked her into an inpatient ward rather than arresting her." He licks the line of adhesive, rolling his cigarette up. "Anyway, she's still there. Never got better."

Annabeth watches him, intent. What he's saying reminds her of Helen, in a sickening sort of way. "Why are you telling me this?"

He looks up, a grim half-smile on his face. "Because I kept seeing her face. Constantly. In the daytime, at night."

Annabeth searches his face. "Your own Image."

He shrugs. "I guess. Anyway, I tried avoiding it—shutting it out. For months, that didn't work. Now, though, I don't see it anymore. I don't see _her_ anymore."

"You don't?" she breathes.

Luke lights his cigarette, burning away the excess paper. He looks up, eyes pale and tired. "Picture it now."

"On purpose? Why?"

"That's how I did it. I faced the nightmare head on, decided it wasn't gonna torture me anymore." He drags on his cigarette, then exhales. The smoke blusters out into the rain, dissipating. As Annabeth thinks about it, the rain becomes louder above them.

Maybe it doesn't hurt to try.

* * *

One day after school, Percy catches up with her. "Annabeth," he calls, hand locking onto her sleeve. His wrist is in a cast again—it had to be re-set after he strained it at work. She hasn't spoken to him in a week. Or any of the others, come to think of it. "Can I talk to you?"

She shifts the strap of her satchel higher on her shoulder. "Sure."

Percy falls in beside her, wheeling his bike along. "Are you okay?" he asks. "You haven't responded to any of our texts for ages, and you've only spoken to me in Latin. Have I done something wrong?"

"No. No, of course not."

Percy throws a concerned glance her way. "So…why? Is it getting bad again?"

Annabeth knows what he means. "Kind of," she sighs. "But I'm getting through it."

"With Luke?" He sounds bitter.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I didn't mean anything by it."

She glares at him as they step out onto the road, ignoring the brazenly green traffic light. "Seriously. Do you have a problem with me hanging out with them?"

"I just—"

"What?" It comes out as a snarl.

He stops walking, forcing her to turn and look at him. A car screeches past them, a flash of colour and wind, but he doesn't budge. There's a jarring look in his eyes, in the clench of his jaw. "He's not good for you. You look like shit."

"Oh, thanks."

She scoffs and tries to push past him, but he blocks her path. "I mean it. I know you're not doing great, but getting fucked off your head every weekend on the shit they give you isn't gonna help.

"Well, it sure feels like it's helping to me!"

"Does it?" he snaps. "From here, it looks like I'm losing you."

"Losing me?" She steps forward, getting in his face. Seemingly involuntarily, he steps back. "You never had me in the first place."

"I know that. I just meant—"

"What exactly did you mean, Percy?" she asks coldly.

"I meant what I said! I'm _losing_ you," he shouts. "I've known you for so fucking long, and things have never been like this before. Never."

"Like this? Like what?"

He struggles for the right words. "You're a stranger."

Annabeth laughs, brutal. "That's rich, coming from you."

"Coming from me?" he says bluntly. It's not a question. He tilts his head, fixing her with a look that's clearly meant to hurt. "Annabeth, I don't give a shit about the drugs you do—they don't make you any different from all the other burnouts at Mileview. I give a shit that when I look at you, you look so fucking empty and lost and—and in pain." He takes a ragged breath. "I miss Annabeth. This…" He gestures at her, like someone might gesture at a statue in a museum. "This isn't Annabeth."

"I don't care!" she says, feeling ill. "I'm not fragile anymore. You used to have to help me through five panic attacks a week."

"Well, I'd help you through a hundred more," he snaps. "You were never weak before, but now you are. You're doing the easy thing. You're shutting me out because you don't think I can handle seeing you at your worst."

That hurts. A lot. "I don't have to take this from you," she mutters, stepping back.

"Take what? The truth? You're never gonna last like this."

"Fuck off." She hates him so much, and in that moment she searches for the worst possible thing to say, the only thing that'll hurt him as much he's hurt her. Turning away, she shoots over her shoulder, "Go back to your trailer!"

Annabeth storms off. She's met with nothing but silence.

* * *

For months, neither of them say a word to each other. Annabeth forces herself not to dwell on what she said during their argument, because then she'd hate herself even more than she already does. She blocks Leo, Piper and Jason's contacts, refusing to speak to them. She tells herself it's because she's pissed off but the real reason—that she's scared of hurting them—flutters perpetually in her ribcage, like it's alive.

Summer rolls around, and she and Luke become joint at the hip. She forgets what it's like to be sober on the weekends—and when school comes to an end, she loses her sobriety on the weekdays, too. Along with Virginia's scorching heat comes warm, pleasant nights. Sometimes Annabeth stays out with Luke and the others until sunrise. The lack of sleep barely bothers her; she trained for this.

For the first time in years, Annabeth spends her sixteenth birthday without her old friends. She won't allow herself to remember last year, at the beach house—that was a different time, and she's burned too many bridges to ever go back there.

Annabeth turns sixteen on the grass in a short summer dress, under the warm sunlight. Her skin's sticky with sunscreen and music surrounds her like mist, fracturing itself over and over again in her distorted mind. She's completely pinged. Luke lays beside her on his stomach, eyes lidded and hair ruffled. He seems content. She's trying to be. It isn't as easy as it looks, even with her thoughts so slow and sidelined.

"Are you having a good birthday?" Luke mumbles.

The sky above her burns blue. It hurts her eyes. "I think so. I don't know."

Luke lifts himself up onto his forearms. The scar on his face looks irritated. Stupidly, Annabeth reaches up to touch it. Beneath her fingertips, it's textured. "How'd you get that, hmm?" she whispers. She didn't mean to say that out loud.

He doesn't answer, and Annabeth wonders if he heard. His eyes have a reddish sheen to them—he's stoned, and smells like it. "I like you," he decides. "We're the same."

Annabeth shields her eyes from the sun. "How do you figure?"

"Well, I'm not a very good person. Neither are you." Annabeth already knew that. She's spent the past year turning that fact over in her head, trying to make sense of it. Luke's still looking at her. "Hey, Bethany. Can I ask you something?" His words are slightly slurred.

Jaw tense as a stiff lock, she nods. "Sure."

"How do you think the world happened?"

She groans. "These questions, I swear. Don't you ever get bored asking them?"

"Only if you're bored answering them." He grins. "Come on."

"The Big Bang, I guess." She pauses. "Not God, I hope—it isn't as though I can square any of this shit with my religion."

"Your religion?"

"I'm Catholic. Or I used to be. Fuck, I don't know." Annabeth heaves a sigh. It's easier to stare up into the rippling, bleeding sun than think about this anymore. "Stop asking difficult questions."

"Hey, I didn't ask any of those." He flops down next to her, closing his eyes.

"What about you, then?"

"What?"

She nudges him. "How do _you_ think the world happened?"

"Did I really phrase it like that?"

A laugh bubbles out of her. "Yeah. Because you're stoned."

Luke opens his eyes again, looking at her. His lips are cracked. He lifts a hand above his head, tracing the lines of a sparse cloud. "Maybe _we_ made it happen," he tells her. "By living."

"That's the most fucked up creation myth I've ever heard," she says. Her voice sounds hoarse. Then, quietly, "I can't believe I'm sixteen."

Silena sits down beside her with a jolt, picking up their conversation. She asks, "Already, or only?"

 _Both. Neither._ "I don't know," Annabeth murmurs. She can't think straight—but isn't that the point of all this, anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's sad, but it's also important. I don't condone any of annabeth's actions in this chapter—she's going through a bad time and coping in a self-destructive way, which I think a lot of people can relate to! let me know what you thought. as usual, the next chapter will be up on wednesday.
> 
> you can come talk to me about this fic on [my tumblr](https://stolen-arts.tumblr.com) :D


	24. a stranger you know best

Three days after Annabeth's sixteenth birthday, her universe spins off its axis. After waking to the sound of shouting, she stumbles downstairs. Her head pounds; she's still in the grips of a comedown. Helen's kneeling in the hallway, letting out hoarse, incomprehensible screams. Her hands are clamped like a vice in her scalp. Bobby's kneeling in front of her, trying to stop Helen from pulling out her hair by easing her hands down. "Mom, stop," he's begging. "Please."

"Helen?" Annabeth says, eyes flying open. She runs to help Bobby. "What's happening? Why's she doing this?"

Bobby shakes his head desperately. "I don't know." They manage to wrench Helen's hands away from her hair, and she screeches in response. "She's gonna hurt herself," mutters Bobby. He looks up at Annabeth, jaw clenched. He's not crying, like Annabeth figured he'd be. "Call an ambulance," he tells her, with more severity than an eleven-year-old wearing Spiderman pyjamas should have. Annabeth fumbles to grab the landline, dialling 911 as fast as she can.

At the hospital, Helen is sedated and examined. The doctors conclude that there's nothing physically wrong with her—the outburst was purely a result of her mental state. Annabeth wishes the doctors would tell them something they don't already know. Helen's psychologist assesses her once she's awake, but she's still completely non-verbal. He decides that it would be best for Helen to temporarily stay in an institution. "She clearly isn't capable of looking after herself, let alone her children," he says to Annabeth. "We're going to call in a social worker. I'm sure they'll arrange a satisfactory living situation for the three of you."

As soon as Annabeth hears that, she has to hold herself together at the seams. Though she wants to break down, she forces herself not to. She's staying in Virginia, no matter what. This is her home. This is all she's ever known. Her thoughts start moving at a thousand miles per hour. At age sixteen, you can live alone. Right?

Their social worker, Sahara Evans, is sympathetic but discouraging. "It really is unfortunate that you don't have any immediate family that could take you in. I know you're of age, Annabeth, but it would be better to—"

"Please," Annabeth interrupts her, straightening up. "I'm comfortable living here. My dad left me a trust fund, which is more than enough to live off. I'm smart, so I'll have no trouble organising my finances. Staying at Mileview would be better for my grades, too." She feels like she's structuring an essay. _Point. Evidence. Explain._

Sahara hums, leafing through Annabeth's files. "You'd be okay with being separated from your brothers?"

"I'll still see them," Annabeth says, trying not to allow desperation to seep into her voice. "I know they'll go into the foster system or a group home, but I don't have to. I can look after myself. I'm sixteen. I'm old enough to live alone."

"If I help you apply for a partial emancipation," Sahara says slowly, "it will be a long process. Lots of check-ins, stuff like that." She sighs, setting aside Annabeth's files and meeting her in the eye. "You seem like a capable young lady, and your school reports are exemplary. Your medical reports, however…" She trails off. "I don't like the sound of a young woman with PTSD living alone."

"I'm medicated for it," Annabeth points out. "I'll do all the check-ups, I'll go through the whole process. Please. I know this is right for me."

Sahara nods slowly. "I'm here to help you, Annabeth."

The next few weeks are a whirlwind. To cope with her burgeoning anxiety in the face of Helen's absence, Annabeth convinces Dr Hale to increase her Xanax dosage. "Just for a few weeks," he warns her. "Normally I'd be reluctant to, but I'm aware you're going through a big life change." It takes several meetings with social workers, the putting together of a petition, and a _lot_ of sorting through forms—but Annabeth eventually manages to obtain a partial emancipation. She'll only live on her own as long as Helen is in the institution and therefore incapable of looking after her, and of course she'll have regular check-ins with Sahara.

It's all incredibly nerve-racking. Still, Annabeth is nothing if not good at keeping her emotions below the surface. One slip-up, and she'll go into the group home with Bobby and Matthew. She can't let that happen; she'd go crazy in there.

Bobby is understanding about the fact that Annabeth won't be coming with then, but Matthew throws a fit. "You can't," he sobs, clinging onto her shirt. The three of them are standing outside the group home with Bobby and Matthew's luggage, waiting to be admitted.

"Matty, you're gonna be fine," Annabeth reassures him, resting her chin on his mop of mousy brown curls. It's all she can do to stop her voice from cracking. "It won't be for long, and you're staying right outside of Virginia. I'll come to see you all the time—I promise."

"She will," says Bobby, looking tired. Even though he and Matthew are the same age, in that moment he seems far older than his brother. "Bye, Annabeth."

She pulls them both into a hug. "I'm not far, okay? Call if you need me."

"What if we don't like anyone there?" Bobby asks miserably.

Looking them both in the eye, she rests her hands on each of their shoulders. "You have each other. And you still have me, even though I won't be with you all the time."

Until that moment, Bobby had been stoic and unmoving. But at her words, his exterior fractures slightly. "I'm gonna miss you," he says weakly, and suddenly he's a kid again.

* * *

Being at the estate by herself is the strangest thing Annabeth's ever known. It feels huge and unbearably empty: a vacant lot, a ghost mansion. Sometimes, Annabeth will wander through the hallways and wonder if she's becoming a ghost, too.

In an effort to fend off the crippling loneliness, Annabeth invites Luke and the others around for the evening. A few of his other friends turn up, then a few more. Soon enough there's thirty people hanging out in the kitchen and gathered in groups on the couches. It's the week before school starts again, so of course everyone's aiming to get as fucked as they possibly can. It's nice to lose herself to the music, the talking, and the ketamine in her system. At some point, the party moves outside to the garden and she ends up sitting on the grass with Luke and Silena. "It's crazy that you're living alone," Silena comments. "This place is huge. You could have so many people round."

"It won't be for long," Annabeth says, almost on instinct. Still, she doubts she's fooling anyone except herself.

Luke catches her eye, taking her wrist. He's drunk as hell, but somehow he still manages to pick up on the subtext of her thoughts. "Your stepmom will get better," he tells her with a reassuring smile. "But in the meantime…" He stands, offering Annabeth a hand up. "Wanna go inside and do another bump?"

Annabeth knows it's a bad idea; she's had five already, and she's been drinking. But the easy way out is right in front of her, in the form of Luke's outstretched palm. With a slight nod of her head, she grins and lets him pull her to her feet.

Most people head off at about three in the morning, too drunk or high to see straight. Luke helps her usher everyone out, even those that would've stayed for longer. One they're alone, she leans against the doorframe and inclines her head. "Sure you don't wanna stay for the night?" she asks Luke. He's about to head home.

"Nah, I'm alright. Charlie's driving by to pick me and Silena up."

"He got his license?" That makes Annabeth pause. Watching your friends grow up is strange. "Anyway, thanks for being here."

He watches her for a moment. In the darkness, his scar is a raggedly torn-open ravine. "Are you gonna be okay on your own?"

"I'll be fine. I just need some sleep." He nods, then heads off down the path with a wave of goodbye. Annabeth closes the door behind him, consigning herself to an empty house for the fourth night that week. She's sobering up again, but she doesn't feel tired. The idea of The Image finding her now is appalling, so she heads into the kitchen and takes an ancient bottle of Chardonnay from Helen's liquor cabinet.

She doesn't want to drink it downstairs, where the shadows are long and endless. Even her room doesn't seem enticing. On instinct, she takes her old radio into the bathroom and sets it down. She's far enough from sober that the empty bathtub looks like an appealing place to lay down—so she does. Moonlight pools over her, rippling like water from the bathroom window.

Uncorking the wine, she reaches over and switches on the radio. She doesn't care which station it lands on; she just wants to fill up the silence. As she drinks, she realises the band is familiar. It's one her dad used to listen to: The Cranberries. A tidal wave of longing crashes over her, suffocating. She misses him. She misses Helen. She even misses her brothers, for fuck's sake.

Annabeth draws her knees up into her chest. Her feet are bare, cold against the smooth acrylic of the bath. The cold is startling, almost humanising. Even though she's been happy tonight, she can't shake the feeling that she's hit rock bottom. Can you be happy at rock bottom? _Is_ she happy, with sore gums and a chest so hollow only alcohol can fill the space? She takes another swig straight from the bottle, but it's not enough to dampen the realisations that are swallowing her up one by one. All of a sudden, she feels the absence of her friends like a heart attack. Not Percy, though—no, his loss is a slow and painful drowning.

As she stares at the label of her bottle like it has the answer to life itself, the song switches stations. It's the same band again. The lyrics wash over her, accented and strange: something about dreams, something about everything changing.

Irritated, she clumsily turns off the radio. The silence that follows is sharper than a knife.

* * *

School starts. Annabeth tries to keep her attendance up, but it's not easy. She gets good at putting on a mask for her teachers, for her social worker. For Luke, even. He's never shied away from her before, but the space between them has turned cold. One evening in the last week of summer, they were stoned and watching a movie on Luke's bed. He kissed her. Annabeth had expected kissing to feel like the collision of two live wires—instead, it was nothing but empty. Luke pulled away, looking disappointed. "That's what I thought it would be like," he whispered. "You're not here. Not really." They never kissed again, after that.

Annabeth wasn't. She still isn't. She's a marble statue, with a static body and unmoving lips. Her presence of mind has deserted her, and she's no longer certain if she wants it back.

She falls into the rhythm of schoolwork, of going out with Luke on the weekends and taking enough Xanax to wrangle her thoughts into submission. September melts into October. She sees Piper, Leo and Jason in school. They'll offer her glances, but never say a word to her face. She wonders if Percy told them what she said to him. In Latin, he never even spares a glance in her direction. Annabeth knows how to grieve, but how can she apply that to her friendships? If she had any courage, she'd talk to them—say sorry, maybe, for shutting them out. But her arsenal of coping mechanisms doesn't include apologies.

Halloween rolls around. Everyone in her year at Mileview are going to Bianca's party, a junior with an October 31st birthday. Initially, Annabeth doesn't even plan to go, but Luke manages to coax her into it. "Come on, Bethany. Please?"

She gets ready at Silena's house, changing into an inky, lacy dress with an oversized black leather jacket on top. She allows Silena to do her eye makeup, even though she could probably do a perfectly fine job herself. "C'mon, aren't you done yet?" she grumbles.

Silena puts down the brush in favour of grabbing her mascara. "Nearly," she smiles. She's wearing a pair of devil horns to match her red outfit, which seems like a half-hearted attempt at dressing up. At least Annabeth isn't kidding anyone by wearing fucking cat ears or something. "Are you drinking tonight? Or anything else?" Silena asks, methodically swiping mascara onto Annabeth's lashes.

Annabeth shakes her head. "Nah. I'm still on yesterday's comedown—taking anything else would probably make me throw up."

"Fair enough," she laughs. "Alright, you're done."

Annabeth checks the mirror. Silena's given her winged eyeliner, which she's always struggled to do on herself. It's blended out slightly at the tips, creating the effect of smoke curling off her eyes. "Thanks," she grins. "It really matches my outfit."

Charlie picks them up in his van with Luke beside him in the shotgun seat. Bianca's party is on the outskirts of town. It's being held in a converted warehouse, and they can hear the music from a block away. It's already eleven when they pull up outside. Dozens of Mileview students in costumes are hanging around outside the entrance, plastic cups in hand. Many of their pupils are blown-out, and their jaws shudder with the chemicals they're charged up on. It's somewhat disconcerting—there's been countless nights over the past year where Annabeth's looked like that herself, but it's a whole different story seeing the effects from a sober standpoint.

Inside, the warehouse is comprised of sweating, dancing bodies and jarring ultraviolet lights. It's fun, for a while—Annabeth dances with a drunk Silena, laughing and chatting amidst the chaos. She almost wishes she bothered to dress up, if only so she'd match the cool costumes and grotesquely painted faces surrounding her. As she dances, it's easy to believe that surviving the night sober will be child's play.

At some point, Silena heads off to go dance with Charlie. Luke's disappeared, so Annabeth busies herself with talking to new people. Still, it's hard to start conversations when everyone around you is either pissed or pinged. Suddenly, her attention catches on a familiar face. It's Leo—except he doesn't look okay. He stumbles against the wall of the warehouse, bracing a hand against it as he doubles over. No one seems to be helping him, or even have noticed. She doesn't know who he arrived with.

After a moment of hesitation, Annabeth elbows through the crowd to reach him. She takes his shoulder, helping him stay standing as he throws up more of the alcohol in his system. "Yeah, that's it. Let it out," she murmurs encouragingly. Being friends with Silena, looking after drunk people has become something of a talent of hers.

He gags again, then straightens up and wipes his mouth. "God, I fucking hate vodka," he mutters. "Thanks, whoever you are." He's about to say something else as he turns to meet her, but then his eyes lock on her face. His jaw drops as he says, " _Annabeth_?"

Instantly, she's a cornered animal. "Oh. Hi," she stutters out. "Sorry, I just wanted to…help, or something—"

Leo's gaze is scrutinising, completely unreadable. "I can't believe you. After months of ignoring all of us, you're standing in front of me like nothing ever happened."

"You were throwing up! I had to help." She pauses, stepping back. "I'm sorry. I'll go."

He closes the distance again, jabbing his finger into her chest. "Explain. Actually, I don't even wanna talk to you," he amends, then shakes his head. "No, wait, I do. What the ever-loving fuck, Chase?"

There's something about hearing Leo's voice that makes Annabeth's throat choke up. She tries to speak, but a half-sob comes out instead. She clamps her hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut to stop the emerging tears. Suddenly, it's like a dam's been broken; all the words that have been pent up inside her for months spill out like a flood. "I'm sorry. I was so scared to talk to you. I fucked things up, didn't I? I—"

Leo seizes her shoulders. His eyes are quiet in their appraisal, in their inevitable judgement. "Annabeth, slower."

She gasps, dragging in a harsh breath. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't know how to face any of you, after what I said to Percy. So many things happened, and I had no idea how to deal with them. Summer was a mess. And—and you hate me. Right?"

Without warning or reason, Leo pulls her into a hug. "Don't be stupid," he says. "I don't hate you, even though you're an idiot."

Annabeth's eyes are wet with salt. "I am," she mumbles.

He pulls away but doesn't let go of her. "Why didn't you say anything? Or even respond to our texts? Give me a real explanation, please. Not that half-assed crap."

Annabeth bunches her knuckles in the long sleeves of her leather jacket, exhaling. "Okay. I—went through a bad time at the start of the year."

"Yeah, we knew that," he says, like it's obvious.

Resisting the urge to glare at him, she continues. "I was kind of in a state. I didn't wanna drag you all down with me, so it was easier to distance myself. Except…I didn't really know how to close that distance again. And Luke was there, so I leaned on him instead. And the drugs…" She trails off. "I can't get off them. Even now, I'm anxious. It's the only thing that helps. I can't…" The words fail her, so she falls silent.

"Why haven't you talked to Helen about it?" asks Leo, brow furrowed.

"I can't."

"You can, I promise. It'll help."

"No, I physically can't. She's not here. She's in an institution, getting help."

Leo recoils. "What? Who do you live with, then?"

"I don't live with anyone." She groans, digging her nails into her palms. "God, this is such a fucking mess. I'm meant to be apologising to you, not complaining—"

"Breathe," Leo tells her, tightening his hold on her upper arms. Annabeth didn't even realise that her pulse sped up, that her lungs were working too hard. "It's okay. You've apologised," he says, a little weakly. "God, I'm just glad you're talking to me again."

"Why? I'm a terrible friend."

"Because I missed you. Why else?" he says, incredulous. "While you've been gone, everything's gone all weird. Percy…"

"What? Is he okay?" She turns left and right, as though he might materialise out of thin air.

Leo sighs. "I don't know. He's been sort of absent. Not like you've been, of course—he hangs out with us all the time. But since you two argued, he's been unhappy."

"This is all my fault," she says. "I was so wrapped up in myself, I didn't even—"

"Yeah, you fucked up," says Leo. "But he's here, so you better talk to him."

"I don't know if I can."

At that, Leo looks like he's gonna slap her. "Do what you want," he says, crossing his arms. "But I'll be pissed off if you let this stupid argument go on any longer than it already has. You hurt him, Annabeth. You need to fix this." As he says it, someone approaches from behind Annabeth. She spins around to see a boy with black hair. Leo perks up. "Oh, hey."

"Where've you been?" the guy asks. "You disappeared."

Leo looks sheepish. "Yeah, sorry. I had to get some of the drink out of my system."

"Sorry, I don't think I've met you before," says Annabeth. "Who…?"

"Oh, this is Nico. Bianca's brother," Leo informs her. He looks apprehensive for a moment, then seems to come to a decision. "Uh—he's my boyfriend."

_Oh_. For a moment, Annabeth feels a little displaced from reality. How much has changed since she's been gone? "I'm Annabeth," she manages.

Nico smiles. "Nice to meet you. You're a friend of Leo's?"

Annabeth stutters, unsure how to reply, but Leo butts in. "Yeah," he says, throwing Annabeth a warm glance. "She is."

"You ready to come back?" Nico asks Leo. "Or are you too drunk to see straight?"

"Nah, I'm fine," he grins, slipping an arm around Nico's waist and leaning into him. "Let's go." As they walk back into the crowd, Leo shoots a vaguely threatening look back at Annabeth. She sighs—how can she talk to Percy, after letting the animosity stew for so long? Does he still hate her, or has his perception of her faded into ambiguity?

She doesn't even know where he is. Suddenly the bright colours and harsh sounds of the warehouse are almost too much to bear, and Annabeth has to close her eyes for moment. None of this would bother her if she wasn't completely, awfully sober. Annabeth pushes through the crowd, feeling anxiety bubble up inside her. She needs to get outside—open air will help.

At last, she reaches the warehouse door. Wrapping her leather jacket tighter around herself, she hurries down the steps. Goosebumps prickle her bare legs as the brisk midnight air rushes to greet her. The streets are empty; everyone's inside, where the party rages on. Annabeth lifts her chin, blowing out a visible breath. The moon looms above the run-down buildings surrounding her, waxing but not yet full.

Knuckles already stiff with cold, Annabeth bunches them up in her sleeves and leans back against the warehouse wall. She isn't certain why she's out here, only that everything is quieter. She thinks about Leo, about how he's found someone in her perpetual absence. She thinks about Piper and Jason, who she's yet to apologise to. She thinks about the way her body aches from the comedown she's still fighting through, about the ragged sores in her mouth that aren't going away.

Annabeth misses Percy—so, so fucking much. She would give herself up in her entirety if he would only speak to her again, if he would only let her salvage the bloodied ruins of whatever they used to be. But it's too late; their friendship is in tatters. How can she do anything except keep laying waste to this aching Halloween?

A sob builds up in Annabeth's chest, but she swallows back her surging emotion. She doesn't deserve to feel sorry for herself, not when she's hurt so many people in the wake of her self-destruction. As she blinks furiously to repel the salt in her eyes, a car drives past. Its headlights flash cruelly golden. She hears quick footsteps behind her; someone's running down the steps. Hoping it's nobody she knows, she doesn't turn around. The footsteps get nearer, then stop suddenly. An uncertain voice calls, "Annabeth?"

That voice—she knows that voice. Great, now she's hallucinating. She turns around, expecting to find nothing but empty air. But standing a few paces away from her is the person she's both been terrified of and has missed like an absent lung. "Percy?" she asks hoarsely. In his faded blue shirt and beat-up sneakers, he looks the same as he always has.

There's a strange expression on his face. "Leo said you were out here," he says steadily.

"I am." Annabeth wants to hide, but she forces herself to face him. His hands are balled up into fists, shaking slightly. He doesn't look threatening, though. "Percy—" she starts.

He interrupts her. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about what you said."

Annabeth screws her damp eyes shut. _Go back to your trailer._ The words clang through her, as clear as they were when they left her mouth. "I don't think of you like that," she says fervently. "I should never have said that. It was fucked up." The distance between them seems like lightyears. "I'm so sorry."

Percy looks tortured. He takes a step forward, but can't seem to bring himself to take another. "What you said hurt. A lot," he tells her. "But I've been turning it over in my head, and I think you were trying to push me away." As he speaks, everything that's happened over the last year begins to crumble into ash. "I should never have let you work through things alone."

Annabeth is already shaking her head. "You didn't. You didn't." She steps forward, palms turned skyward in some half-fledged form of surrender. "God," she mutters. "I was so fucking scared of hurting you—any of you—that I hurt you even worse, when I was just trying to get away."

His fists unravel, and he lets out a choked sound. "I was so angry at you. I still am, for Christ's sake. You're a stranger. I feel like I don't know you anymore."

Fresh tears prickle at Annabeth's eyes. This time, she doesn't think she can hold them back. "I don't even know _myself_ anymore," she gasps out. "How do I—how can I go back?"

"You can't," he rasps, and she realises he's close to crying. "But you can go forward."

"Can I?" He's in front of her, all of a sudden, wrapping his arms around her. She relinquishes a sob, leaning into his chest. "When did you get so fucking tall?" she whispers.

Percy doesn't let go of her. The familiar smell of machine oil washes over her, and she clings onto it like a lifeline. "I don't know."

"I missed you."

He lets out a listless laugh. It's sounds hopeful, somehow. "I missed you, too."

Annabeth slips her arms around him, feeling the urge to hug him back. When he lets out an involuntary hiss of pain, she jerks back. "What was that? Are you okay?"

He's already stepping away, closing up again. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"The fuck you are," she shoots back. "What's wrong? You're hurt."

"It's just a bruise." Then, "What are you doing?" Annabeth's reaching for the hem of his shirt. She gives him enough time to stop her, but he remains still as she carefully lifts it up. There's an awful bruise on the side of his stomach. It's scraped up and scabbed over, clearly fresh. "What the fuck," she says emphatically.

"It's nothing. It doesn't hurt."

"Well, it sure sounded like it did!" Percy's withdrawing—it's happening before her eyes. All she knows is that she's not losing him again. "Please," she begs. "Tell me. What happened? Why are you always hurt? Your arm. Your face." Her mind's moving at thousand miles an hour, and suddenly her memories are slotting together like puzzle pieces. He's never let her inside the trailer, she's never even _seen_ his stepdad. Tentatively, she asks, "What's going on?"

He looks pained. "Annabeth—"

"Who's hurting you? Don't go." She grabs his jacket sleeve, terrified that he'll leave.

Percy's looking down the cracked concrete below them. "I can't," he mumbles. The sheer conflict etched into his features reveals enough. As she draws in a ragged breath, Annabeth wants the universe to burn for what it's done.

Telling herself to remain calm, she reaches up and touches his face gently, brushing her thumb over his jaw. When her hand falls away, his gaze is on her again. "Do you want me to say something first? A truth for a truth, like we used to do."

At first, she doesn't think he's going to agree to it. But then he nods, and everything falls into place. "Okay," he says softly. "But I think I already know."

Annabeth swallows. "I'm addicted to drugs. I thought I would know when to stop, but I was wrong. I should've listened to you, when you tried to help." She's silent for a moment. "I think I'm worse than Luke."

"Are you gonna stop?" he asks quietly.

"I don't know. I'll try. Is that enough?"

Percy offers her a wry smile. "Of course it is. You're enough."

Before she can stop herself, she's laughing. "How do you always know what to say?"

"If you think that," he says, arching a brow, "then you're not as smart as I thought you were."

She takes his hand, afraid to look at him. It's his turn. "And what about you?"

"You're not allowed to freak out."

Annabeth thinks for a moment. "I don't know how I'll react. I'll try not to."

He doesn't look satisfied by that, but nods anyway. He touches the area with his bruise almost subconsciously, as though voicing it aloud is reminiscent of pain. "My stepdad. It's him."

"Okay," Annabeth breathes. Anger shudders through her, but she forces it down—her own feelings can't help Percy. "For how long?"

He's gripping her hand. "Forever. A long time."

_Forever._ Annabeth's chest aches. "Please get out of there."

"Annabeth—" he starts, but she cuts him off.

"Please. You can't…" _You can't last like this._ An echo of his own words. "I need you to be okay. If you stay there, I'll be terrified every minute I'm not with you. Come live with me—I live alone at the estate, now. I need you out of there," she repeats.

"Next year," he tells her. "In January. I've nearly saved enough money. I'm gonna try for that apartment, the one over the diner. The current resident's lease ends soon, and I think I'll be able to afford it."

"Next year?" She pauses. "But…that's so far off. What if something happens? What if—"

"Please don't," he says brokenly. "I need to get out myself, okay? I don't know why, but I do. It's all I've ever asked for. All I've ever wanted."

Annabeth hugs him again, careful not to touch his bruise. It's started to rain, and the drops are cold against her exposed skin. "Okay," she whispers.

Percy laughs, suddenly. "This is weird. Everything's out in the open, for once."

"Why did we ever keep so much shit from each other?"

He laughs again. "I don't know. I don't know." He brushes her hair away from her face. The rain's coming hard and fast, but neither of them move an inch. "Annabeth."

"Yeah?"

"While we're on the subject…I think I like you."

Annabeth pauses, like the wind's been knocked out of her. "I think I like you, too."

He opens his mouth, then closes it again. "You do?"

She can't feel the rain anymore, even though it's started storming. "Yes, you idiot," she manages. Percy's hand curves around the nape of her neck, and the next instant he's kissing her. At first, it's soft and closed-mouthed. Annabeth lets out a quiet sigh, taking hold of the fabric of his jacket as he kisses her harder. His lips are chapped. Everything's so goddamn perfect, and Annabeth has to wonder if this is nothing but a pipe dream.

He pulls away for half a second, nose brushing against hers. "I really, really missed you."

Annabeth can do nothing but nod, pulling him down for another kiss. "We're never going so long without talking again, okay?"

"Okay," he says, smiling. "You really like me?"

"We've covered that," she reminds him.

He kisses her, warm and soft and everything she's never known she needed. "You're incredible. I can't believe this is real."

"Neither can I." Rising onto her tiptoes, she kisses him on the jaw, then on the cheek, then settles on his lips with a sigh. As the rain soaks their clothes through to their cold skin, Annabeth thinks they might have invented themselves anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this was so cathartic, wow :') the next chapter will be up on sunday, as usual. let me know what you thought! btw, I'll respond to last chapter's comments in about half an hour as I need to eat dinner first lol!
> 
> come chat to me on [my tumblr](https://stolen-arts.tumblr.com) :D


	25. hazy christmas lights

Percy can tell that Annabeth is trying. Every day, it becomes more obvious that she's trying to claw her way up from the bottom of the pit she dug for herself during the year they were apart. Though Percy tries to be there for her, there's only so much he can do to help; it's hard to heal a damaged person when you're just as damaged yourself.

Annabeth still talks to Luke. He's her friend, after all. But after hanging out with him, she'll sometimes come to meet Percy with red eyes or buzzed pupils, and it scares him. "I'm sorry," she'll say, tearing up. "I fucked up. I'm sorry." And what can he do, except tell her that it's okay and kiss her like she's sober? She still relies on the drugs to cope, but she's _trying_.

There's one thing that has changed, though: the kissing, the touching. The two of them were always close, but now a new kind of intimacy has been added into the equation. It's easier than anything to settle into each other like a sigh. Percy learns the feel of her lips, the smell of her jasmine shampoo, the warmth of her bare waist. Maybe it's so easy because they've been friends for so long—Percy already knows Annabeth like the back of his hand. Of course, there's some relearning to be done; neither of them is quite the same person they were at the beginning of this year. Percy doesn't mind that, though. It's Annabeth, and how could anything about her be anything less than beautiful?

Still, they haven't gone any further than kissing. Percy wonders if it's because they're both scared of hurting each other; he still thinks about what she said during their argument, even though he wishes he could wipe it out of mind. If something isn't hugely momentous and important, then it can never end in flames—right? For the same reason, they haven't told any of the others about what's going on between them. What's the point, if they're too afraid to even define it?

Percy begins to spend a lot of time at Annabeth's estate. She always tells him how lonely it is there, so he makes it a point to come over as much as he can. He doesn't have much free time due to all the shifts he's taking on, but that doesn't matter. She makes time for him, so he'll make time for her. Annabeth checks up on him through texts constantly when he's home at the trailer. He knows the reason why, but is terrified to address it.

One Sunday afternoon, he heads around to Annabeth's after his shift at the machine shop. He knocks on the door, but there's no answer. Unassumingly, he tries the door and realises with a shock that it's open. "Annabeth, you in?" His voice echoes into the foyer. No one responds. He steps inside, closing it carefully behind him. Wondering if she's even in, he checks the kitchen and the lounge. Both are empty. "Are you home?" he calls again, poking his head up the stairs. Ascending the stairs, he peeks into Annabeth's room. She's sitting on the floor, leaning against her bed with her eyes shut. She looks awful—there's bags under her eyes and sweat on her face. Percy curses, kneeling beside her. "God, Annabeth. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she mutters.

He arches a brow, checking her forehead with a kiss. "You're burning up. How long have you been like this? Why didn't you call me?"

"Didn't want to worry you."

He pulls her close, realising she's shuddering slightly. "Well, consider me fucking worried. Does your head hurt?"

Annabeth opens her eyes, struggling to focus on him. "Yeah, it's pounding. I've probably caught something."

"Are you sure you're just sick?" he asks cautiously, lifting her to her feet. She sits down heavily on the bed, hands shaking. "How long has it been since you've taken your meds?"

She opens her mouth, then closes it again. "A while."

"A while? What does that mean?"

Tugging her hand out of his grasp, she glares at him. "I'm fine. I don't need them."

He gapes. "Annabeth, you can't just stop taking them! I think you're meant to slowly come off anxiety medication, not go cold turkey." He grabs the bottle of Xanax on her bedside, checking the label.

Annabeth grabs it out of his hand. "Stop. I've made it this long."

Percy sits down next to her, trying to be patient. "Why haven't you been taking it? It's necessary—it's not like any of the other stuff you've done." _The stuff you still do,_ he doesn't say.

"I know that."

"So…why?"

She sighs. "Because I never treated it like medication. I never followed the prescription, always took more than I was supposed to—because I didn't think I was strong enough without it. Well, not anymore." Drawing her trembling knees into her chest, she exhales raggedly. "I'm never taking that shit again."

He's silent for a moment. "I get that. But it seems like you're going through withdrawal."

"I wasn't even supposed to be addicted to it in the first place!

"But you are," Percy says plainly. "You could just try…sticking to regular doses? And if you want to wean yourself off it, you could always ask Dr Hale to work out a tapering dose."

Annabeth looks pained. "I don't think I can do that."

"Do what?"

"Exert so much control over it." She sags down onto the bed. After a second, Percy lies down beside her. Annabeth pulls her arms around herself, trying to control their spasming. Her face gleams with sweat.

He stares at the ceiling for a few intrepid moments before breaking the silence. "You can," he says quietly. "You're strong enough. But right now, not taking them is making you sick. Please, will you? For me?"

She doesn't look at him. For a second, it seems like she might ignore what he's saying. But then she sits up, reaches for her bottle of Xanax and tips a pill into the palm of her hand. "A regular dose," she says, and throws back her head to swallow it. Percy hands her the glass of water on her bedside to help wash it down.

"Thank you," he whispers, pulling her into a hug. Her shoulders are still shaking.

"I didn't do it for you," Annabeth tells him.

He smiles into her shoulder, presses a kiss to her jaw. "That's good."

"I really wish you could just come and stay here," she mumbles. "I hate the thought of you living with him." She flops onto her back again, looking up at him.

Brow furrowing, he props himself up on an elbow. "I know."

"God, I swear I'm not trying to guilt you, I just…" She trails off. "I worry about you."

"Soon," he promises. "I'll be out of there soon."

"Percy?" she says, then hesitates. "You don't have tell me anything, okay? But I'd still like to know about—the trailer. Not right now, but sometime in the future."

Percy appreciates that she doesn't voice exactly what she means. He begins to shake his head, then lets out a sigh. "I don't know. Maybe."

She doesn't seem satisfied by that, but she doesn't press. "Okay." She gently tugs the collar of his shirt, pulling him down for a kiss.

* * *

That Sunday, the two of them find themselves outside Annabeth's church. When she mentioned missing the routine of it earlier in the week, Percy asked if she wanted to go. "I'll come with you, if you want," he offered. Annabeth was reluctant, but he knew her well enough to know when she wanted to be convinced.

People are already going inside with their arms linked with loved ones, dressed in nice clothes. Neither Percy nor Annabeth bothered with anything more than jeans and a jacket—to him, it somehow would've felt like pretending. Annabeth stares up at the church's colourful windows, looking apprehensive. Percy wants to smooth out the crease of her brow with his thumb. "You ready?" he asks gently.

Annabeth doesn't say anything, only turns to look at Percy. "Can we wait for next week?"

"Are you sure?"

She picks at her nail, giving him a pleading look. "I can't go in. Today doesn't feel right."

Percy watches her for a moment, then takes her hand. Her fingers are cold, so he lifts her hand and blows gently to warm them. After a moment, he offers, "Wanna go for a milkshake instead?"

At that, she looks desperately relieved. "Yeah, that'd be nice." As they head out of the car park, she says, "Sorry. I know this seems stupid."

"It doesn't," he tells her fervently, squeezing her hand. "If it's a milkshake day, it's a milkshake day."

Annabeth laughs. Instantly, Percy wishes he could replay the sound. "You know I'm only with you for your staff discount," she says, leaning into him.

 _With you_. The words clang through him. Trying to quell his racing pulse, he arches a brow and smiles. "Tell me something I don't already know."

* * *

It hurts to watch Annabeth's attempts to reconcile with the others. Leo is quick to come around—out of all of them, he knows the most about what's been going on with her. And after an explanation, Jason hugs her. "Something like this happened with Thalia," he tells Percy afterwards. "I'm not gonna condemn Annabeth for the same thing. She fucked up, but she needs us."

Piper, however, is angry. Despite being Annabeth's oldest friend, barring Percy, she refuses to talk to her. He understands why—it must be hard to see your best friend try to destroy themselves for a year, all the while acting like you don't even exist. Fall fades into winter, and Annabeth still hasn't made any headway with her.

"She thinks it's only a matter of time before I fuck up again," Annabeth admits to Percy one cold morning at the machine shop. School starts in an hour. It's the last day before winter break, and Percy is deathly tired. Gabe locked him out the trailer late last night, so he's had barely any sleep. One of his ribs has been bruised for a week. Still, he can't abandon his morning shifts.

Percy nods, going through the motions of an oil change. His breathing curls out before him, pale and visible in the winter air. "But you get it, right?" he asks Annabeth. "She's scared that if she lets you back in her life, you might hurt her. I know you wouldn't do anything on purpose, but it's understandable." He rubs absently at the streak of machine grease on his left palm.

Annabeth nods, tucking her hands deeper into her coat pockets. "I guess I just miss her," she admits.

The holidays are strange. Leo finally introduces the guy he's been seeing to Percy, Jason and Piper. Somehow, Annabeth already knows him; she says they met on Halloween. His name's Nico. Leo seems happy with him—and he's great on a skateboard, which is a good thing in Percy's book. But although Annabeth, Leo and Percy are hanging out as often as they ever did, Piper remains distant. And it's impossible for Jason not to side with her, so Percy doesn't see much of either of them. It's strange how fractured their once tight-knit circle has become over the past year.

Percy hates Christmas; it's never meant anything more than resentment to him. How could it, when his family is comprised of a mother he never even knew and a stepfather that hates his guts? But he's determined to make something of it this year. He's trying as hard as he can to pull his friends back together, to assert some semblance of control over his life. And he knows Annabeth isn't planning on celebrating, except for visiting Bobby and Matthew at their care home. He decides to set up a surprise for Annabeth. She's the only reason he's ever had good feelings associated with the holidays, and it's time to repay her.

A few days before, he knocks on Piper's door in the evening after a shift at the diner. She opens it, rubbing her eyes. "What the fuck? I was asleep," she grouches, then seems to register who's standing in front of her. "Oh, Percy," Piper realises with a grin. She's still wearing her uniform from her job at the cinema. "Sorry about that."

He blanches. "Did you sleep in your work clothes?"

"Yeah," she answers, rolling her eyes. "I've got another shift in the morning. This way, I don't have to change."

"That's…pretty smart, actually," he says slowly. "Anyway, I need to talk to you."

At that, she looks concerned. "Why? What's happened?"

"Nothing," he says hastily. "It's about Annabeth."

Piper groans. "Not while I'm fucking tired, okay? Just call me tomorrow." She tries to shut the door, but Percy wedges his foot in it and forces it back open.

Turning on the baby seal eyes, he pouts. "Please? This means a lot to me."

Piper glares at him for a few seconds, but eventually huffs. "Ugh, fine. Do you wanna come in?"

He shakes his head. "Nah, this won't take long."

"Alright." Grabbing her jacket off the hook, she shrugs it on as she steps into her slides and closes the door behind her. "Let's sit on the bench. I hate standing."

Once they're settled, Percy takes the plunge. "So, I've been thinking—"

"Always a bad sign."

He shoots her a harsh look, continuing, "I've been thinking about Christmas. This year's been shit, and I don't want it to end that way too."

"What does that have to do with Annabeth?"

He fidgets with the sleeve of his jacket, avoiding her stare. "Annabeth doesn't really have anyone, apart from us two and the others. I know you're not talking to her, but she is trying to fix things."

Piper looks uncomfortable. "I know that. I just don't think I'm ready to forgive her yet."

"You don't have to," he pleads. "But I want us all to hang out tomorrow—it's gonna be Christmas Eve. Annabeth's alone at her estate. I'm not doing anything, and your dad's away, right? And I bet Jason, Leo and Nico would be down for it."

"I don't wanna see her," Piper insists.

"Please, Pipes. She misses you."

"Does she?" she asks bitterly.

"Obviously, McLean. You used to be so close—"

"Stop," she grits out, burying her head in her hands. "I don't believe she's sorted herself out. I don't believe she'll find a way not to hurt us again."

"She hasn't hurt anyone except herself," Percy says quietly.

Piper jerks her head up, astounded. "Have you forgotten what she fucking said to you?"

"I haven't forgotten," he argues. "But she's said she's sorry. She's proved herself. She's _still_ proving herself, every day." He falls silent for a moment. "We fucked up too, you know. We should've been there for her. It was wrong of us to let her fall in with Luke."

She scoffs. "You're crazy. It was her choice to pick him over her us."

"Annabeth wasn't thinking straight!" he nearly shouts, but manages to tamp down on his anger. "She was hurting."

To his surprise, there are tears in Piper's eyes. "I really fucking miss her, okay? But nothing's ever gonna be the same."

"It won't be," he agrees. "Everything's going to be different. But we don't have to keep trying so hard to stay separate. Things will get better, if you let them."

Piper closes her eyes for a second. "Fine. I'll do Christmas Eve with you guys," she relents. "But I'm not gonna pretend to be friendly with her, okay?"

Percy beams, pulling her into a hug. "Thanks, Pipes. I really appreciate this."

She pushes him away, grumbling, "Whatever."

"One more thing. Do you have any Christmas decorations?"

"Yeah," she says slowly. "What for?"

He smiles. "You'll see."

That night, Percy calls everyone in an attempt to get things organised—which includes asking Jason if Thalia can fit a Christmas tree in her car. He leaves Annabeth for last, simply shooting her a text checking he can come round in the morning after his shift. _Yes, please do :)_ she responds. For some reason, that little smiley is enough to fill Percy's chest with warmth.

* * *

Percy shows up at Annabeth's at around midday. Her cheeks are flushed when she opens the door, and her hair is softly curling and frizzy. Her dark circles betray her exhaustion, but she lights up when she sees Percy. "Hey."

He greets her with a kiss. "Merry Christmas."

"It's not Christmas yet, you idiot."

He shrugs, stepping inside. "Christmas Eve is still Christmas."

Annabeth shakes her head, smiling. "So, I figured we could curl up and watch a movie. I found some snacks in the cupboard, and _Home Alone_ 's on in a few minutes," she tells him, disappearing into the kitchen. She's wearing fluffy socks. Percy tries not to melt internally.

"The first movie?" he asks

He hears her scoff. "Of course. It's the best one."

Percy checks his watch—the others should be here in twenty minutes or so, depending on their luck with the tree. He collapses on the sofa and switches on the TV, flicking through channels until he finds _Home Alone_. Annabeth returns with popcorn and settles down next to him with a sigh, pressing a kiss to his jaw. It's sad they won't be able to be affectionate when the others show up—but it's their fault for not telling anyone yet. "This is my favourite Christmas movie," he says absently.

She smiles up at him. "Is it?"

"Well, I haven't watched many," he murmurs. "We saw this one in school, I think."

Her brow creases. "Okay, that's fucking depressing. I really need to educate you on movies."

He swats her. "Hey!"

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door. "Who's that?" Annabeth asks.

He stands up. "Come on, I've got a surprise for you." Warily, she follows him into the hallway where he prompts her to open the door. She does so with caution, and almost shrieks.

Leo, Piper and Nico are standing on the mat, each carrying a cardboard box. "Merry Christmas, Annabeth," Piper says with a small smile.

"Piper, what…?" Annabeth starts.

She's interrupted by Leo shoving past her. "This is so fucking heavy," he groans, staggering. "Where can I put it down?"

"In the lounge," supplies Percy.

"Hey, what's up?" Nico says, offering them a smile as he heads inside after Leo.

"Let me help with that," Annabeth says, taking Piper's box. She looks dumbfounded by everyone's arrival, but Percy can see a newfound hope unfolding behind her eyes. "Wait, what have you guys even got in here?"

"Oh, you'll find out," Piper tells her.

Percy waits at the door, wondering where the others are. His question is answered when Jason, Thalia and Reyna show up at the gates, struggling to keep a tall Christmas tree aloft. "Hey, Percy," Thalia yells. "Where the fuck should we put this?"

He laughs, helping them get it inside. "Wow. I wasn't expecting y'all to get such a big tree."

Reyna looks at him dryly. "I tried to convince these two idiots to get a smaller one, but they weren't having it."

Annabeth gapes as they drag the tree into the lounge, positioning it by the window. Shell-shocked, she murmurs, "I can't believe…Percy, did you do this?"

He grins sheepishly. "Yeah. Is it okay? I just thought—"

"It's perfect, God," she says, tackling him in a hug. "Thank you."

He tucks his chin over her shoulder, relaxing for only a moment before pulling away. "Alright. Let's go help the others."

Piper and Leo are already pulling decorations out of boxes, while Nico and Reyna are wrestling lights around the tree. "Are we putting tinsel on it?" Leo asks loudly.

"Of course, Valdez," says Annabeth. Her eyes look a little teary, but Percy doesn't comment on it.

"Come on, then," Piper calls. "I need help with these baubles. What theme are we going with?"

"Blue?" Percy suggests, but gives into laughter when he's shouted down with rebuttals.

Someone puts on a Christmas playlist, and everyone sings along to _Fairytale of New York_ as they haphazardly adorn the tree with decorations. No one can agree on any one theme, but Percy hangs up as many blue baubles as he can find. The Christmas lights flood the room with a warm, hazy kind of brightness. At some point, Piper and Annabeth step into the hallway for some privacy to talk. The two of them return after a while, looking teary-eyed and happy.

"Everything okay?" Percy asks Annabeth as he hangs up one of the last baubles.

She nods, picking up another decoration. "I think so. It will be, anyway."

As the afternoon wears into evening, they turn a movie on. "What do we wanna watch?" Jason asks as he flicks through the TV guide.

"Oh, _The Polar Express_ is on," Thalia says excitedly.

Reyna's snuggled up with her, head resting on Thalia's shoulder. "Oh, that's a classic."

"No," Leo groans. "I hate that movie. The characters all look so dead in the eyes."

"Yeah, that's what makes it good," Piper interjects, voice muffled around a mouthful of Pringles. "Weird CGI is my shit."

"Such a good movie," Annabeth agrees. "Percy, you haven't watched it, right?"

He shakes his head. "No."

"What? That's gotta be a crime," says Jason from where his head's resting in Piper's lap. "Put it on!"

Everyone clamours their approval until Leo gives in with a sigh, flipping to the right channel. "I hate you guys," he mutters.

Nico laughs, nudging him. "The only movies you like are Star Wars."

Leo flops against him, looking pained. "That's not true."

"It _so_ is. You're a simp for Han Solo," Piper tells him gleefully.

Percy bursts out laughing as Leo dramatically throws an arm over his face. "Stop letting them bully me," he complains. Nico smiles, slipping an arm around him and whispering something into his ear. "Oh, shut up," Leo mumbles, cheeks blooming a faint red.

Everyone stays round Annabeth's until late in the evening, filling the house with laughter and warmth. Percy doesn't think her estate has ever felt so _full_ before.

Before Thalia leaves, she pulls Annabeth aside and speaks to her in an undertone. Percy tries not to eavesdrop, but he does pick up a name: _Luke._ Their conversation isn't long. When they're done, Thalia puts her number in Annabeth's phone. As the two of them rejoin the others, she tells her, "I'm always around to talk."

Annabeth can only nod in reply. She looks embarrassed. "Thanks for coming, guys," she calls, opening the door to let people trickle out.

Piper hugs her, burrowing her nose into Annabeth's shoulder. "I fucking missed you, blondie," she says fiercely.

"I missed you too. I'll see you soon, yeah?"

"Of course," Piper answers, shooting her a look. "You couldn't stop me if you tried."

Once everyone's gone, Annabeth has to hold onto Percy for a few moments. When she pulls away, she looks like she might start crying again. "Thank you for inviting them—I would've been too scared to do it myself. You're amazing."

He rolls his eyes. "Well, family is what Christmas is all about, right?" She smiles softly and kisses him, lingering on his lips like the remnants of a warm breeze. "Seriously," he adds, pulling away for a moment. "You never have to be alone again. At least, not while I'm around."

Annabeth grins, shaking her head. "You're such a sap."

It's more natural than breathing to kiss her again. He whispers, "So are you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, I miss christmas :') this was a lot of fun to write haha! sorry it's up so late in the day, anxiety's been kicking my ass and I've been struggling to get this chapter right. let me know what you thought! the next chapter will be up on wednesday as usual—quick reminder that this fic updates twice a week.
> 
> come chat to me on [my tumblr](https://stolen-arts.tumblr.com) at stolen-arts :D


	26. don't speak of permanence

Whenever Annabeth knows Percy's at home in the trailer, anxiety buds in the pit of her stomach. Maybe it's irrational, but now she's aware that he isn't safe there she's unable to stop thinking about it. She checks up on him constantly over texts. She never outright asks him if he's okay, but she'll start conversations in other ways just to receive a response. He's a fast replier—she always hears back from him almost immediately, unless he's at work. Neither of them would ever say it aloud, but it's obvious he responds quickly so she doesn't have to worry for his safety.

Percy doesn't seem to mind, even when she calls him in the dead of night when her mind is restless and she's unable to sleep. His voice helps with her nightmares. They've been getting worse, recently, and it isn't just her father anymore. A recurring dream of finding Percy dead has been haunting her, except it's never by a bullet like the one that pierced her dad. No—it's always by the hands of his faceless stepfather who has become a constant in Annabeth's imagination in the same way he's a constant in Percy's life.

It's midnight, and they've been talking on the phone for the past few hours since he got home from his shift. Phone calls with him are always steady and relaxed, punctuated by periods of relaxed silence where Annabeth is content just to listen to the sounds of his movements and quiet breathing. "Percy?" she says suddenly, lifting her head from where it's been buried in _Tender Is the Night._ She's been reading it for English. After such a long time of not giving a shit about her grades, she's been trying to focus on school again.

"Yeah?" He sounds tired.

Guilt twinges in Annabeth, but she shakes it off. "Have you thought about what you're gonna do after high school?"

He hums, which sounds crackly over her phone's speaker. "I don't know. Try and get an apprenticeship at a machine shop, maybe."

"You'd be good at that."

"Yeah, well." Bitterness coats his voice. "It's the only thing I'm good at."

"Don't talk like that," she rebukes, frowning. "You're good at English."

"Only because of you."

"That's not true," she tells him. "I didn't help you at all last year and you got an A."

He's quiet for a moment. "What about you? What do you want to do after high school?"

"No idea."

"You're so smart, I bet you could do anything you liked." He pauses. "What about photography? You always said you planned to try for a career in it."

She scoffs. "I haven't taken a photograph in months. I'm close to getting kicked out of my elective."

"Months?" he asks. Then, quietly, "I didn't know that."

Annabeth sighs. "Yeah, well. I haven't been feeling too creative lately."

"Do you wanna try taking some photos of me? You used to like doing that."

She laughs, poking, " _Someone's_ vain."

"You know that's not what I meant," he complains. "What else would you wanna take photos of, then? Maybe you need some fresh ideas." Without saying anything, Annabeth turns onto her back. She knows the reason she's abandoned photography, and it isn't a lack of ideas. Since the beginning of last year, the high she used to associate with taking a beautiful photo faded away in the face of the drugs Luke exposed her to. The joy of it isn't there anymore, and she's terrified that her love of photography has disappeared for good.

"Let's not talk about this," she murmurs, closing _Tender Is the Night_ and setting it on her bedside table. Despite her mind being as wired and awake as it has been all evening, she says, "I think I'm gonna try and sleep now." For a while at least, she's come off her sleeping medication. The line between helpful and damaging drugs has become blurred over the past year, and until her perspective is fixed, she's trying not to touch any of them—except for the Xanax that keeps her sane.

"Okay," says Percy. "Get some sleep. Call me if you need me, yeah?"

"Yeah. Goodnight."

"Night, Annabeth." The line cuts off. Annabeth releases a sigh, holding her phone to her chest. Even though she's just spoken to him, that familiar anxiety about him being at home nags at her. It's impossible to stop counting down the days until he's free.

* * *

In the new year, she and Piper have been working on rebuilding their friendship. While the unwavering trust they used to have for each other has been destroyed by a year of radio silence, Annabeth is relieved that they're at least talking to each other again. Before Christmas, she began to believe Piper was never going to speak to her again, but thankfully she came around and decided to give Annabeth a chance: a chance that she's determined not to squander.

Since then, Percy's admitted to convincing Piper to let Annabeth back in her life. When she found out, Annabeth hugged him and wouldn't let go for a minute straight; bringing one of her best friends back to her is a debt she'll never be able to repay.

School is just as cruel and vibrant a hell as it's ever been, but it's bearable with her old friends at her side. She still talks to Silena and Charlie, of course—even hangs out with them at the weekend—but Luke seems to have lost interest in her. Annabeth's accepted that her newfound, painful aversion to the drugs he got her hooked on and the empty kiss they shared are probably the rationale behind it, but his loss still hurts. He's the sole reason she made it through the battlefield of last year, and it's painful that he no longer gives her a second glance.

Thalia says it's for the best. Annabeth's been calling her for a few weeks now, whenever she loses sight of her motivations for staying mostly sober. She knows Thalia understands, even cared about Luke in the same fucked-up way Annabeth once did. Their situations mirror each other—though Thalia never went as far as Annabeth did, they were both driven by the same wretched grief.

Annabeth's sitting on the bleachers with Piper at lunchtime, watching Jason's football team practice tackling. Piper's slurping sorrowfully on a smoothie from the cafeteria, watching her boyfriend. "He's so annoying," she mutters. "I'm not becoming a cheerleader just so we can be one of _those_ couples."

Annabeth laughs. "You'd think he'd settle for you two literally being a two-person band."

"Tell me about it." Piper sighs, crumpling up her empty smoothie cup. Glancing at Annabeth, she shoots her a snarky grin. "At least me and him have owned up to our shit, though."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know," she says casually. "You and Percy."

 _Oh._ How has Piper clocked on? Annabeth tries to glare at her, but probably only manages to look mildly inconvenienced. She and Percy haven't told any of their friends about whatever the fuck's going on between them, of course, because the truth is that they haven't even defined it themselves. "What about me and him?" she asks, taking a bite of her sandwich. It's so bland, she nearly spits it back out.

Piper groans. "Really? You're completely oblivious?"

"You're the one who's seeing shit that isn't there."

With a scoff, Piper kicks her legs up on the bench in front of her. "I refuse to believe the two of you are this stupid. You practically eye-fuck each other. In public, too."

Annabeth chokes on her sandwich, coughing. "Piper!"

"What? It's true. Neither of you have any decency."

"How do we _eye_ - _fuck_ each other?" she asks, horrified. Are they really this obvious? "We're friends. That would be weird."

Piper shrugs, but there's still a gleam in her eye. "Agree to disagree. But mark my words: if this keeps going unaddressed, you two are never gonna confront your feelings. You'll probably have a drunk one-night stand or something and _I'll be_ the one that'll have to drive you to the abortion clinic."

"Fucking Christ. You've been watching way too many romance movies with Jason."

Piper doesn't rise to the bait. "Something's gotta give," she insists. "Or someone. And if _you_ don't want to, I bet Percy—"

"Do not finish that sentence." Annabeth wants to sink into the floor.

"Okay, fine. I'll stop teasing you, but only if you promise to think about what I'm saying. Please, for me?"

"Piper," she says, irritation spiking. "I don't care what your opinion is about me and Percy, but I do know that it's bullshit."

Piper's attention's drawn away. "Speak of the devil," she grins. Annabeth follows her gaze. Across the field, two guys have emerged from around the side of the building. One of them is Leo, with his familiar corkscrew-curls. The other's Percy. They're talking and laughing, jostling each other.

Suddenly, Leo notices them and yells, "Pipes! Annabeth!" Percy meets Annabeth's eyes. He smiles, giving a small wave. Chest fluttering, she fights off the blush that threatens rise to her cheeks. Keeping up this goddamn act is going to kill her.

As they approach, Piper nudges her and whispers, "Let the eye-fucking commence."

* * *

Though Annabeth and Percy never show their affection in public, it's easy to hold each other, to sink into each other's kisses on the warm nights that they're alone. There's no absence of desire, either, but it's clear neither of them are ready for that yet. This feathered, living thing between them is still so new—so fragile. Though it goes unsaid, they're terrified of doing something to damage it.

But that doesn't mean Annabeth can't kiss him, can't lie tangled up in his arms under the covers or learn how the slight stubble on his jaw feels against her lips. Caring about him is second nature. After all, they've known each other for a long time. She still vividly remembers the day she found Percy, bruised and hurting, on the side of the road.

Annabeth will never forgive herself for failing to notice what he was going for the entire duration of the formative years they shared. How did she believe all the flimsy cover-ups Percy fed her? How didn't she see through the curtain he slid around himself to keep her and everyone around him in the dark? He suffered deeply and futilely for so long—surely Annabeth could've prevented it. Helen would have helped, would have gotten Percy out of there if only she knew the truth about what was happening to him behind closed doors.

Annabeth hates it, hates that Percy thought he had to keep so much of himself from her. She's too scared to ask him why he did it. Some part of her is afraid that it might have been her doing, that she didn't give him enough reason to trust her or was oblivious to his cries for help. If she'd really, truly _looked_ …could she have saved him?

It's past sunset, and the two of them are lying on Annabeth's bed. Her head is pillowed on Percy's chest, and he's slowly, repeatedly smoothing out the curl behind her ear. His fluctuant breathing is close to lulling Annabeth into sleep. A movie's playing on Annabeth's laptop: _Princess Mononoke._ It used to be her dad's favourite, though she never really understood his love for it until now. "This movie's so weird," Percy says. "What the fuck are those little bobble head things?"

Annabeth hums. "Forest spirits."

"Oh?" He falls silent, letting the scene play on. Annabeth's eyes almost flutter shut. Still, she manages to keep them open. Shifting her head, she reaches up a few centimetres and lets her fingers drag along the ridge of his collarbone through his T-shirt. It's smooth and warm, singing with the heat of Percy's chest.

She finds that the ridge ends jaggedly, as though the bone isn't laying quite right in his shoulder. "What's up with that?" she murmurs, not really expecting a response.

Attention pulled away from the movie, he asks, "What?"

"Your shoulder."

He rolls it slightly, as though remembering an old affliction. "It got dislocated when I was six. Didn't heal very well."

Annabeth swallows down the discomfort that crawls up through her throat. The way his voice caught when he said _six_ did not go unnoticed to her. Suddenly, she's assailed with the awful vision of a young Percy cowering in the trailer with his shoulder wrenched out of place. She almost says something, but realises Percy wouldn't appreciate that. She can't shake the feeling that he just trusted her with something huge—it would be cruel for Annabeth to push any further, to peel back the layers of what he really said. An excavation so jarringly intrusive could never be fair to him.

It's impossible not to wonder if there's more scars she hasn't seen yet, more half-healed bones and ridged skin that he keeps hidden. Lifting herself up onto an elbow, she surveys Percy's face. She doesn't know what she's looking for, if there's even anything to find. "Percy?"

He turns away from the movie, looking at her warmly. "Yeah?"

"I…" What is there to say? She leans forward and presses her lips to his, hoping that says enough. He smiles into the kiss, hand curling around the side of her neck as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss. Pulling away for a second, his other hand finds her shoulder blade. Moving Annabeth onto her back, he bites gently at her bottom lip and kisses her harder. When he finally pulls away, she's breathless and flushed.

"I've been meaning to ask," he says slowly. "I know we haven't defined this yet, but…I think I'm serious about you. About this."

Annabeth's already shaking her head, flooded with discomfort. "It's too soon."

"For what?"

"For this to _be_ anything."

Percy holds her gaze, refusing to move away. "But it already is something."

"Please, can we not do this yet?" she asks.

"Why?"

She hesitates. "I'm scared I'll ruin it."

"What? Why would you even think that?"

Annabeth sits up, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes to block out the light. _Princess Mononoke_ still plays in the background, its orchestral score rising and falling. She clicks pause, suddenly overwhelmed by her senses. "Because I almost _did_. I almost destroyed our friendship. I made you think I hated you."

His brows are deeply furrowed, and there's pain in his eyes. "Annabeth—"

"We both know it's true," she says, voice wavering.

He takes her hand, pleading. "You never destroyed anything. We hurt each other, alright? It wasn't just you. I should've said something sooner, should've know you weren't okay on your own."

She can't look at him. Deep down, she knows this isn't fair of her. All Percy wants is to define what they are, to agree that this is something more than empty intimacy. But some part of her refuses to settle, refuses to believe that everything will be okay if she just allows it to be. "I'm sorry." Shoulders slumping, she mutters, "Fuck, I don't know why I'm being like this."

"Hey, no. You're allowed to be like this. If you're not sure about this, then…" His voice cracks slightly, but he smooths it over and continues, "If you're not sure, then that's fine. More than fine." He gathers her into a hug.

"I like you," she says against his shoulder, voice muffled. "I'm happy with how things are. We don't have to tell anyone yet, right?"

Percy nods wordlessly. He pulls away and kisses her nose, drawing a smile from Annabeth despite the conflict plaguing her. He lies back down, letting her relax into the crook of his arm. "Wanna finish the movie? There's not long left," he says, turning it back on. As the sounds and colours of a battle scene wash over them, Annabeth closes her eyes.

* * *

On Fridays, Percy works at the machine shop until late. Sometimes Annabeth will keep him company; he appreciates getting to talk to her while he works mindlessly on cars. Still, she knows she's something of a distraction—especially now that they've become whatever they are. So instead, she tends to just hang out with the others on Friday nights. For Annabeth, the weekends hold painful connotations after she fell into a steadfast habit of going out and getting utterly wrecked on whatever drugs Luke could get his hands on last year. Usually, it was MDMA: his personal favourite. Annabeth's ecstasy comedowns were always worse than his, but she was so swept up in his self-destructive cycle that she stopped giving a shit.

It's been weeks since she's done anything like that. But on Fridays, her blood always sings with the desire to forget her inhibitions and relinquish control of her body for a while. Since she's stopped, the Image has gotten worse. Sometimes it's all she can do not to call Luke or Silena and spend the weekend in a haze.

Her friends are a beautiful, welcome distraction. Thalia understands her fear of relapse, and Leo knows what it's to survive without your family. Piper is her second-oldest friend, and Jason is intimately acquainted with her aching grief. Even Reyna is around to lean on from time to time. Annabeth genuinely has no idea what she'd do without them, and she doesn't want to know. It's probably better not to think about it.

Leo's taken to hanging out at the estate on Fridays. He's a drain on Annabeth's snack supply, but she doesn't mind. It's nice to have someone to talk to and play Mario Kart with. Currently, Annabeth's painting her nails while Leo plays Rainbow Road solo on Bobby's old DS. "Did you really sneak in?" she laughs, blowing on her nails to dry them faster. She's painting them a dusky cornflower blue: Percy's favourite colour on her.

"Yeah, we went in through the window," Leo grins. "Nico's mom almost caught me, but he managed to shove me under the bed before she came in to see what the commotion was about."

"What were you even doing outside?"

"Oh, we—shit!" he curses, thumb turning the controller frantically as he almost flies off the road. Once he steadies the car, he sighs in relief. "We were making out in the park," he continues. "And then we made out on his bed. And then we—"

"God, I don't wanna hear it," Annabeth groans. "Spare me the sordid details, please."

Eyes gleaming with mischief, he protests, "What? I wasn't gonna say anything."

"You absolutely were." Unscrewing the nail varnish bottle again, she carefully paints a fresh coat over each nail on her right. She's always been good at keeping them neat—Piper sometimes jokes that Annabeth's hands are so steady she could be a surgeon.

Someone blue-shells Leo right before he reaches the finish line. Cursing, he throws down Bobby's old DS. "Second? Fuck." He reaches for the carton of orange juice on the coffee table in front of them, tipping his head back and pouring it into his mouth.

She grimaces. "Couldn't you get a glass?"

"Nah," he says, continuing to drink straight from the carton. "Can you get more of this stuff?"

"Why? It tastes weird—it's not store-brand," she says absently, focused on her nails. She glances at her phone to see that the screen's empty of notifications. She texted Percy twenty minutes ago; he should've finished his shift and been on his way home to the trailer by now. He probably got held up or something. She knows he'll call her back when he gets the chance.

"Hey, can I borrow some nail paint?" Leo asks, leaning forward to peer in her box of varnishes.

"Yeah. Which colour?"

He rummages around, eventually landing on a dark grey shimmer. "This one?"

"Sure, that's fine. I barely ever use that colour anyway."

"Thanks." Shaking up the bottle, he reaches for his phone. "Can I connect to your speaker?" She nods. Before long, The Smiths are playing from the small speaker on Annabeth's coffee table. Leo sings along as he paints his nails, being considerably less careful about it than Annabeth is.

An hour elapses. Once they're done, they collapse back on the sofa to watch reruns of _That 70's Show_. Strangely, she can't shake a feeling of foreboding. It's out of character for Percy to take so long to respond, especially when he's at home. Though she tries to hide it, he knows how anxious she gets—she's terrified that the days of him keeping his stepdad's violence a secret will return, and she never wants to let that happen. It's painful enough to sit by and do nothing, trusting that Percy will move out at the end of the month.

Annabeth can't stop herself turning over possibilities, replaying every awful image she can conjure: Percy bleeding out on the floor of the kitchen, Percy with another broken wrist. Her regular dose of Xanax is beginning to wear off, and her pulse is speeding up. She tries to focus on the TV, to tear her eyes away from her dark, empty phone screen. The world becomes fluid as Leo's phone conversation with Nico turns into fuzzy, droning background noise. As she struggles to keep her breathing under control, she feels a pressure on her arm.

Jerking her head up, she sees Leo's concerned face. "Hold on a second. I'll call you back," he tells Nico, ending the call. "Chase? Are you okay?" Unable to form a word, she squeezes her eyes shut. "Oh, shit. You're breathing really fast."

Hating the terror lancing through her, she runs through the steps she needs to take. _Breathe in for four. Hold for seven. Out for eight._ Soon enough, she begins to calm down. "Sorry," she croaks. "I just—"

"No, it's fine. You're fine." Leo hugs her. "What happened? Did you take your meds today?"

"Yeah," she says. Hands shaking, she reaches for her phone. "Percy. I need to call Percy."

"Wait, why? What's going on?"

She presses on Percy's contact, holding the phone to her ear. "I don't know. He's taken ages to respond—he never does that. Not when he's at home." His phone rings and rings, before going to voicemail. Frustrated, she jabs the call button again.

Leo reaches forward, palm raised. "Seriously, Annabeth. Why are you worried? Is Percy in trouble or something?"

"I don't know. I don't know." The line goes through to voicemail for the second time, and Annabeth tries not to freak out. "He has to be at home by now. It's nearly eleven."

"Maybe his phone's dead?" Leo offers.

She shakes her head. "If it was, he would've put it on charge when he got home."

Leo appraises her, gaze dark and calculating. "Annabeth," he says slowly. "You need to tell me what's going on."

Percy would hate her if she said anything. "I can't, I just…" She exhales sharply. "I need to contact him somehow."

"How are you gonna get hold of him if he's not picking up his phone?"

Frustrated, she throws her hands up. "I don't fucking know." Standing up, she grabs her leather jacket from where it's laying in a heap on the coffee table. "I'm gonna walk there."

Leo shoots to his feet. "Are you crazy? The trailer park's ages away and it's dark outside. You could get hurt."

"I can't do nothing!" she shouts, shrugging into her jacket.

He looks at her phone, then back at her. Groaning, he grabs his hoodie. "I hate you."

"No, you should stay here."

He folds his arms. "I'm coming. Tell me what's really going on."

Clenching her fists, Annabeth deliberates back and forth until she eventually comes to a conclusion. "I can't tell you explicitly," she says quietly. "But I'm scared for him."

"Why? He's at home." A period of silence follows, and Leo's mouth drops open in realisation. He's smart—smarter than anyone gives him credit for. "No. You're kidding, right?" Annabeth doesn't say anything, only turns around and heads for the hallway. He follows, dumbfounded. Annabeth begins to lace up her shoes. "Wait," he says suddenly, turning on his phone.

"Leo, what are you doing?"

"I'm calling Jason."

She blanches. "Why?"

"Because Thalia has a car," he responds, lifting the phone to his ear. "Hey, Jase. Is your sister around?" He pauses, listening. "Great. Could you two come pick us up? We need to get to the trailer park—it's urgent. Something's up with Percy." There's a longer pause this time, and then Leo nods. "Okay, see you in ten minutes. We'll be waiting outside."

Thalia makes it to Annabeth's estate in half that time. Before they head out, Annabeth grabs her dad's pocket-size Swiss Army knife from a kitchen drawer—just in case she needs to defend herself. She hopes to God she won't be given a reason to use it. "Hey," Jason greets them from the shotgun seat.

Piper's sitting in the back—she was hanging out at Jason's before they came. "What's going on?" she asks as Annabeth and Leo climb in next to her.

Slamming the car door, Annabeth pulls on her seatbelt. "There's not enough time to explain."

In the rear-view mirror, determination sings from the set of Thalia's jaw. "Annabeth, I sure hope you know what you're doing," she tells her. "Everyone ready?" Without waiting for an answer, she steps down hard on the accelerator.

The drive flashes past in increments, a haze of yellow streetlights. Annabeth stares forward through the windscreen, nails biting into her palms. She hopes like hell that she's wrong, that Percy's gone radio silent for some other reason, but in her gut she knows she's right. She has no idea what she's going to do when they arrive. Knock on the door, then call the cops if there's no answer? Beside her, Piper touches her wrist. "Annabeth, everything's gonna be okay." She doesn't respond, aware that anything she could say would be disbelieving.

The trailer park is cloaked in an opaque fog that's descended from Virginia's skies. Thalia parks outside the trailer park. She switches off the engine but leaves on her headlights. Turning around, she asks, "Annabeth? Do you want me to come?"

Already clicking off her seatbelt, Annabeth stutters, "I…I don't know."

In answer, Thalia opens the driver's-side door. "Alright. The rest of you, wait in the car." Though she's only a few years older than the rest of them, right then she sounds more authoritative than Annabeth ever thought was possible for someone who's barely an adult.

She leads Thalia into the trailer park, heading down the burnt-grass path. Annabeth is terrified, but she won't let herself panic; there's no way she's losing her composure now, when Percy needs saving.

As they approach Percy's trailer, the echoes of muffled shouting washes over Annabeth. Then there's silence, followed by something that resembles a cry of pain. "Oh, God," mutters Thalia. "I'm calling the cops. Annabeth, don't go any closer—it might not be safe."

Annabeth is glued to the spot. Rage filters through her body, igniting her fingertips and pooling in the pit of her stomach. In that instant, she resolves to ruin the disgusting excuse for a human being that is Percy's stepfather. She watches helplessly as the door to his trailer is pushed open and pale light floods out of it. The shouting is clearer, now, and she can make out words: _Dirty, filthy liar…_

Percy's voice is quieter, choked with pain yet dignified. His stepfather's holding him up by the collar like a rag doll, spitting defamation in his son's face. He draws back his fist, knocking Percy's bruised jaw upwards in a ruthless uppercut. The force sends him staggering, and Annabeth watches in alarm as Percy loses his footing and crashes down the steps.

She's already moving, heels digging into the grass to overcome the inertia. "Get off him!" She sprints forward, vision tunnelled on Percy's unmoving, bloodied body lying crumpled over the trailer steps. It's impossible not to see her father in his place. Suddenly, she's crouched over him. Blood oozes from an injury on his temple, and his eyelashes flutter open and closed like he's trying to focus his vision. He's bruised all over, and she thinks that might be a welt on his arm. "Annabeth?" he croaks.

No longer faceless, his stepdad glowers down at her. "Get out of here. This is between me and him."

Annabeth touches Percy's shoulders with shaking hands, but she's terrified to move him in case she makes his wounds worse. It's clear that he's suffered some sort of head trauma. "How the fuck could you do this?" she yells hoarsely, getting to her feet. Dimly, she hears Thalia call her name.

Anger contorts his expression. "Why, you little—" He barrels towards her. All she can do is raise her arms in a useless bid to protect herself as he lands a hard punch in her stomach. Winded, Annabeth doubles over as she fights the urge to throw up. He shoves her back, but she manages to keep her footing. Fumbling for the penknife in her jacket pocket, she flicks it open. He pulls back his fist, and a lucid, hateful of fear spikes in Annabeth's chest. She wants to kill him for the years of suffering he's put Percy through. Without hesitation or grace, she plunges it into his thigh.

A ragged cry tears from his throat. Annabeth yanks the knife out, and he collapses. Horrified, she stares for the sickly moment at the warm spray of blood on her hand. The hazy screech of sirens bleeds into focus as she turns around, kneeling haphazardly beside Percy. His eyes are closed, and his breathing sounds raspy. "Percy? Where does it hurt?" She sounds manic.

" _God_ ," he croaks, almost inaudibly. "Everywhere." Annabeth lifts his wrist to take his pulse, holding back a sob.

Suddenly, Thalia's hand is on her shoulder. "You're insane. You're insane," she mutters. There's a police car parked a few paces away from them, an ambulance close behind. Two officers step out of it. One of them is speaking fast into a handheld radio as the other approaches Annabeth and Thalia. He grabs Annabeth's shoulder, hauling her to her feet. "Drop the knife. Hands behind your back."

She barely registers it slipping from her fingertips as the officer wrestles her hands behind her. Thalia's protests wash over her, and she can do nothing but watch as paramedics rush to Percy's side. His eyes are open again, and he locks onto Annabeth's gaze. He barely seems conscious. Somehow, he manages to grit out, "Wait, stop. She was protecting me."

Cool, metal handcuffs slide around Annabeth's wrists, but the cop doesn't click them shut just yet. "We can't call this defence of another unless the victim intends to press charges," he tells Percy gruffly.

Percy's mouth opens like he's about to say something, but he cuts himself off with a raw cry of pain as he's moved onto a stretcher. His raven hair is plastered to his face, sticky and dark with blood. Annabeth hates herself for failing to prevent this. "I'll do it," he says softly in a ruined voice. "Let her go. I want to press charges."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last chapter of Act Two—I'm so excited for Act Three. sorry for that ending haha! hope you liked it, I'd love to hear what you thought!
> 
> come chat to me on [my tumblr](https://stolen-arts.tumblr.com) :D


	27. bury the hatchet

**ACT THREE**

" _Now I am quietly waiting for the catastrophe of my personality to seem beautiful again, and interesting, and modern." —Frank O'Hara_

* * *

For hours, Percy's been drifting in and out of consciousness. His body feels woozy and distant, bearing no recollection of the pain he was in before. He hears voices—some familiar, some not. There's one voice in particular he tries to hold onto whenever he comes close to waking, but he can't quite grasp whose it is.

Blinding, fluorescent lights are the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, cast down from a bleach-white ceiling. He attempts to speak, but his hoarse voice won't sound. In a panic, his eyes fly completely open. His sight's fuzzy and maladjusted; all he can see is the hazy outline of what seems to be the inside of a hospital room. He tries his voice again, summoning his strength. "Where…?"

"He's awake!" someone calls out. "Nurse?" Percy squints into the brightness, trying to focus his vision. At last, he registers the presence of a girl sitting beside him. Blonde hair. A worried face, with dark half-moons stamped below her eyes. Her hand is faintly warm where it rests upon his.

"Annabeth?" he asks. His mind is still foggy, but events come back to him in waves. Arguing with Gabe. The blinding pain of his head slamming into the side of the kitchen counter. Collapsing onto the ground outside the trailer as sirens wailed in the distance. Annabeth stabbing his stepfather, then being wrestled into cuffs. _Let her go. I want to press charges._

"How do you feel?" she asks, squeezing his hand. There's a catheter pinching his finger. One of his arms is slightly elevated, and an oxygen mask is fitted over his face. It's difficult to breathe—his chest feels tight, as though his ribcage isn't contracting properly.

"Hurts," he wheezes, even though the pain's actually tolerable. Whatever drugs they're pumping into him through the misty tubes attached to his forearm seem to be doing the trick.

A nurse with a clipboard approaches his bedside. "Hello, Percy," she greets him warmly. "Good to see you're awake. How are you?"

"Fine," he replies, voice rasping and weak.

She lifts the mask off his face, helping him sit up a little. "You suffered a broken rib, moderate trauma to the head, and a fractured ulna—the bone in your wrist," she clarifies. "Also, your X-rays showed patterns of old skeletal fractures throughout your body. Those reports have been sent to the police."

Brows furrowing, Percy fights against the lethargy slowing his thoughts. "I—I don't understand. What are you saying?"

She purses her lips. "Poorly-healed breaks result in skeletal fractures. Patterns of these are often indicative of childhood abuse, so your X-rays will likely be presented as evidence in the case."

Annabeth's expression remains carefully blank, but she hasn't let go of Percy's hand. "I gave a witness statement," she tells him, softening. "Thalia, too. And as I'm the only one who knew about anything, I've agreed to testify."

Percy can't look at her. He hates this intrusion of his privacy, however necessary it might be. But even though he wishes Annabeth would stay out of this whole humiliating situation, he doesn't think he could get through it alone. "Okay," he says quietly. "What do I need to do?"

"The police are here. Once you've rested for a little longer, they'll want to speak to you. Maybe take photographic evidence."

Swallowing hard, Percy nods. "Where am I gonna stay?" he asks, trying to mask the building terror in his voice. It feels like he's survived a reckoning, and he has no idea how to deal with the aftermath. The police will want him to talk, to confront his past and lay everything bare before a jury. And even then, there's no guarantee he'll be free of his stepdad.

"At the hospital, for the next few days," the nurse responds. "After that, I don't know. Annabeth here has informed Social Services that you planned to move into an apartment at the end of the month, but I imagine they'll want to discuss other options with you."

Percy feels sick. "Can you…can you leave me be for a moment? Please."

The nurse nods, giving him a sympathetic smile. "Of course. You've got a lot to process. Try and get some sleep—your body needs to heal. And if you want anything, just press the call button." She dims the light as she slips out the door, closing it behind her.

He exhales. "Annabeth?"

"Yeah?" She's tracing circles on his hand with her thumb, reliable and constant.

"You didn't have to do that."

Her thumb pauses in motion. "Do what?"

"Step in. Put yourself in danger."

"Of course I had to," she says, like it's obvious. "He was hurting you. Anything could've happened if I hadn't shown up."

Percy closes his eyes. "He would've stopped. Eventually."

"I don't care. You were in so much pain that you could barely move." Then, quietly, "You should never have had to deal with his shit."

"I know."

"Do you?" she demands.

Percy's silent for a moment, gaze resting on their joined hands. "That wasn't how it was supposed to happen," he says. "I didn't want to have to leave like that."

She looks confused. "Does it matter? You made it out."

"Yeah, it matters! I wanted to walk out on my own accord with my head held high. Not…not on his." Frustrated, he blinks away hot tears. "I hate this. I was fucking carried out of there."

"Percy, how can you think for a second that you're not strong? You're pressing charges. You're testifying in court. He'll never be able to hurt you again."

"I don't think I can face him," he mutters. "And just because the police know what happened doesn't mean things are gonna get better."

"Things _will_ get better," Annabeth insists. "Besides, no one's going to let him near you now they've seen what he's like."

He laughs coldly. "People have always seen it. Most people in the trailer park knew what was going on."

She stops short. "Why didn't they intervene?"

"Because they didn't care! Why should they give a shit about a single useless, trailer-trash kid? Sometimes I'd get a sympathetic glance, but they had their own problems to deal with. It was easier for all of them to turn a blind eye." Out of breath, he clenches his jaw. "Besides, what the hell could they have done?"

Annabeth looks quietly murderous, but she doesn't respond immediately. Continuing to trace Percy's knuckles, she meets his gaze. "I wish I killed him," she says. "I should've stabbed him somewhere more fatal."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't," he says. "I'd miss you if you went to juvie."

She smiles at that. "It would've been worth it—if only so you wouldn't have to face him in court." She hesitates. "Thank you for doing that. For pressing charges. When they cuffed me, I was terrified."

"Don't be stupid," he says, rolling his eyes. "I wasn't gonna let them take you away, even though you _were_ crazy to do that." He shakes his head, grinning. "I still can't believe you stabbed him. That was insane."

"He deserved it," Annabeth says, but she's smiling too. She lifts his hand, softly kissing their intertwined fingers. "You did it for yourself too, right?"

"Yeah," he admits. "But it was mostly for you."

"What was the argument about?" she asks, averse. "You don't have to tell me."

The memory is sore and aggravated. Percy doesn't want to think about it. He knows he'll have to recount the whole night in court, as well as tear open the scars of his past so the jury can draw their conclusions. But after all Annabeth's done for him, she deserves to know this much. "The apartment," he tells her. "He found out about my plans to move out. I was careless; I left the lease in my drawer." He scoffs self-deprecatingly. "Well, I guess I'm moving anyway, huh?"

"I know the situation isn't perfect, but this is still good, alright? You were shutting down in that place." Percy can't argue with that. He's never been able to imagine a life outside of the trailer, and knowing he never has to go back feels like a fever dream. "I just wish you got out sooner," she murmurs. "Hell, I wish I didn't believe you that first time you told me you crashed your damn bike."

"When you were out walking King," he remembers, wrenched back in time to when things were golden. "God, I miss that dog."

"So do I," she smiles, resting her chin on her fist. "I'm glad they're letting Bobby and Matthew keep him at the care home, though. Last year, I don't think I'd have been capable of looking after him."

Percy doesn't respond. Affection washes over him as he takes in Annabeth's face, charting the constellations of freckles across her nose and cheeks. "Are the others here?"

"Thalia's been talking to the police. Piper, Leo and Jason were in the waiting room for hours, but they had to go home to eat and sleep. They'll be back in a while—visiting hours open again in the morning."

His brows furrow. "How long's it been since I was admitted?"

"Twenty-four hours. It's about midnight, now."

"You haven't slept?"

"Only a few minutes here and there. They're letting me stay with you, as you haven't got any family to wait around. I told them I'm your girlfriend. That's okay, right?" She sounds uncertain.

He knows how scared Annabeth was of committing to whatever it is they have, and hearing her define it sends warmth to his fingertips. "That's okay," he laughs, suddenly senselessly happy. "God. What did the others say?"

"They were shocked we managed to hide our relationship from them for so long, but they were pleased about it," she says. "Piper seemed relieved we actually worked it out, and Leo looked like he wanted to cry."

"I'm glad you're here," he concedes. "I'd be freaking out a whole lot more otherwise." His eyes fly open. "Oh, fuck. My hospital bill. And how am I gonna work with a broken arm?"

"Hey, no. Stop catastrophizing," she chides him. "I dealt with your hospital bill. And don't you say a fucking word about paying me back, alright? Let me help."

Percy feels cut open. "I have money saved. I could—"

"That money's for your apartment," she tells him sternly. "Your moving out plan is still intact. No one's taking that from you."

A dozen protests rise to the tip of his tongue, but he stifles them. After years of sanitising his own injuries, of keeping himself afloat, of never accepting a helping hand for fear it'll bite him, Percy has no idea how to process this. "Okay," he says hoarsely. "Thank you."

"This isn't transactional," she reminds him. "We're allowed to help each other without expecting anything back, you know."

Percy forces a smile, hating the fear in his chest. He can have this. He can let himself have this. Reaching up, he tries to tuck a flyaway strand of Annabeth's hair behind her ear but his catheter gets in the way, dragging through it. "You're right. Sorry, I just—"

"Don't apologise," she says gently. "It's okay. I get it."

He draws in a shaky breath, feeling for the first time the ache of what must be his broken ribs. The next few weeks are going to be hell, and not just because of the pain. "I think I'm gonna sleep," he murmurs. "Can you stay?"

"Yeah," she says through a yawn, tucking her legs up onto her chair. In the dim light, the shadows of her face are inoffensive and soft. "I'm tired too. Wake me up if you need anything."

He nods. Closing his eyes, he surrenders to exhaustion. "I will."

* * *

A week later, Percy signs out of the hospital. With Annabeth's help, he proves his ability to support himself financially to Social Services and details the plan he made regarding the apartment over the diner. His social workers agree that emancipation might be best for someone in his situation, as he was arguably already living independently. He'll have to go through all the legal avenues and, of course, nothing can be finalised until Gabe is tried. Despite being in police custody, he's still technically Percy's legal guardian.

The apartment above the diner is barely large enough for one person. It only has a single window, and its bathroom isn't fitted with a door. It's smaller than the trailer—but even so, it doesn't feel suffocating. For the first time, Percy has a space that's entirely his own. He has a door that _locks_. More than anywhere else in the world, he feels safe here.

For years, he was terrified that his friends would find out the secret he guarded with his life. He thought that if any of them ever found out, his world would crumble around him. If they knew what Gabe did to him, it would become a real aspect of himself—not just a collection of bruises and buried memories. But somehow, none of that has happened. They're not angry that he lied to them, only concerned. They treat him the same as they always have. He keeps expecting them to demand answers, but instead all he receives is their warm, silent support.

At one point, Leo pulls Percy outside _The Winehouse_ to talk. The others are all sitting at a booth inside, enjoying their milkshakes. It's been several days since Percy got out of the hospital, and he's trying to settle into his normal life again. "I can't believe I didn't notice," Leo admits, sounding guilty. "All this time…"

Percy's leaning against the wall, fidgeting with a fraying thread on his sling. He knows what Leo's talking about. "I didn't want you to notice," he rebukes. "That's why I kept up the lie."

"Yeah, but…" Leo sighs, glancing through the diner's steamed-up window. "Before I came to Virginia, I lived in countless other group homes. I know what it's like to feel unsafe where you live, but I can't imagine—" He stops short. "I guess I'm trying to say sorry. For not noticing."

Percy feels torn. Shaking his head, he insists, "Don't. Don't say that."

"Why not?"

"Because you didn't do anything wrong! None of you did. I'm the one...the one who—" He groans, kicking the concrete sidewalk.

Leo's brows furrow. "Stop. I get it, okay? When things got bad at the group home a few years ago, I almost ran away from Virginia because I was so scared to tell anyone. But then I told Annabeth. She convinced me to stay, again and again. Everything got better after that. Slowly, but it still got better." He places a hand on Percy's shoulder, grinning crookedly. "You get what I'm saying?"

Percy mirrors his smile, summoning a nod. "Yeah, Valdez. I get what you're saying."

Leo pauses. "Annabeth knew, didn't she? Before any of us."

"Yeah. She wrung it out of me on Halloween."

"Halloween?" He gapes. "But that was months ago!"

"We kissed that night, too," Percy admits. "I really like her. Maybe it's stupid, 'cause we've only been dating for a while."

"It's not stupid," Leo laughs. "You two have been mutually pining over each other for _years_ , man. Me and Pipes had a betting pool."

"Oh, my God," he groans. "Really?"

Leo smirks. "She owes me twenty quid."

He laughs, shaking his head. "Shut up. I don't wanna know."

"I'm glad you two have each other," Leo says after a moment. "Especially after the fucking mess that was last year."

"I'm glad, too." Percy feels like a burden's been lifted off his shoulders, even though there's so much left unsaid. After the trial, maybe the hatchet will finally be buried and things will start moving again. Absently, he thumbs the bracelet of every charm Annabeth's given him over the years that remains on his wrist.

"Wanna go back in?" Leo asks, nudging him. "It's cold, and I bet Piper's nearly finished both our milkshakes by now."

Percy curses. "Christ, I was looking forward to that sundae." Shoulder to shoulder, they head inside.

Leo's right, of course; Annabeth's a godsend. She helps him find basic furniture for his apartment, even talks him out of buying a plain duvet cover just because it's cheap in favour of a nicer blue one. She even buys him a plant to help bring some life to his new place. She hangs out there all the time, helping him with homework like she always used to. Sometimes they'll lay on his bed for hours, talking, touching and listening to music on her old radio. It's a beautiful kind of freedom.

Preparing for the court case is pretty bleak, and takes up over a month of Percy's life. He can't stop flipping through every possible scenario of what might unfold in the courtroom, and is terrified that he'll fall apart at the britches when he faces Gabe. He envisions freezing on the spot, choking on his words or turning mute. When those things happened inside the trailer, no one ever had to witness it—but in court, there'll be a thousand scrutinising eyes staring straight through him.

There's one thing about the whole process that sickens Percy to his stomach: despite the debilitating evidence, Gabe is pleading innocent. It's been eating Percy up. Some part of him still identifies with the kid he used to be who would cower in the corner of the trailer, steadfast in the belief that his bruises were his own fault. After all, he never saw anyone else with them. It was only when he met Annabeth's incredible, glowing parents that he began to think, _Wait. Maybe things shouldn't be this way._

Annabeth helps him get ready for the hearing. "You're gonna do great, alright?" she tells him, smoothing down the lapels of his suit. They're standing by Percy's door, waiting for Thalia to pull up outside. She's driving them there, but won't be sitting in on the hearing. She wanted to come, but Percy asked her not to. He'll be terrified enough without his friends watching, too. "If you start panicking, just look over at me. Yeah? Don't look at Gabe. He's not worth your time."

Percy nods, steeling himself. "Yeah." He feels like he's dressed up for church in his crisp, clean suit, but he can't stop fiddling with his fraying left sleeve. His right arm is still in a cast. Though it admittedly might win him some degree of sympathy from the jury, he wishes it wouldn't. He hates feeling fragile. His healed ribs still ache when he's tired, and even though he hasn't been working as many shifts due to his injuries, fatigue sometimes threatens to swallow him up. "Annabeth…" he starts, then trails off.

"What?" she asks. Her hair is carefully pinned back, but a few flyaway strands are beginning to slip out of her low bun. Percy resists the urge to tuck them back in.

He shakes his head, trying to quell the rising anxiety in his stomach. "I keep thinking I'm gonna go in there and they'll laugh at me. Tell me I'm making everything up." He sighs heavily, scrubbing his hands over the back of his neck. "Sorry. I'm just overthinking."

"You're allowed to overthink," she tells him with a quiet smile. "But you're crazy if you think that's going to happen. There's so much evidence in your favour, and _I'm_ testifying. There's no way I'm letting them screw you over, okay? We're gonna show him hell." She gives him a lingering kiss, hope glistening in her eyes. Outside, they hear the screech of a car parking beside the curb. "That'll be Thalia. You ready?"

He squares his shoulders. "I guess I have to be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is up a day late, sorry about that! I had hellish cramps all weekend and writing just wasn't happening lmao. I did announce it on my tumblr, but I know not all of you follow me over there. the next chapter will be up on thursday as I'll need a little more time to write it, but then we'll return to regular sun/wed updates.
> 
> thanks for reading, let me know what you thought! if you like, you can drop me an ask about this fic on [my tumblr](https://stolen-arts.tumblr.com)


	28. still on your side

The trial is long and gruelling. Annabeth can barely remain calm as she watches Gabe's defendant attempt to rebuke the undeniable fact of Percy's abuse—a fact that this man is being paid to deny. Gabe's beady eyes sweep over the court, occasionally scraping over Percy with aggression sparking in the curl of his lip. Annabeth quietly simmers, furious. Prosecution seems to be winning over the jury purely on the merit of the blatant photographic evidence they collected—photographs of the injuries Percy sustained, X-rays of his battered body—but Gabe's going down fighting.

Percy is sitting beside her, face pale as he stares steadily forward. She squeezes his hand, trying to offer some semblance of reassurance. He shoots her a small smile in response. His breathing's rapid, but he seems to be managing to keep a handle on it by tuning out the proceedings. He's doing a good job of holding himself together, all things considered. To Annabeth, the whole process is completely sickening.

She hasn't testified yet, but she knows she'll soon be called up to the witness stand. Closing her eyes, she tries to prepare herself. There's no way in hell she's letting Percy down. When she's done talking, every fucking person in the jury will have no choice but to proclaim Gabe guilty.

After a few more minutes of the proceedings, Annabeth hears her name. She jerks her head up, realising the judge is looking at her expectantly. "Annabeth Chase. Come up and swear the oath, so you can present your evidence."

Annabeth gets to her feet, letting Percy's hand slip out of her own. Approaching the stand, she places her hand on the New Testament resting there. The judge says, "Repeat after me: I do solemnly, sincerely and truly declare and affirm that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

Mouth dry, Annabeth stutters out the words. She takes to the stand, clearing her throat. The jury watches her, their collective gaze expectant. "I've known Percy since I was ten," she begins, hating the way her voice wavers. He isn't looking at her. His hands are bunched up the fabric of his slacks—as though he's trying to anchor himself to something. She continues, "We've always been close, and I've seen the effects of what his stepdad did to him first-hand. I didn't find out what was really going on until last year. For the longest time I thought he was just clumsy, or got into fights that I didn't know about. There were so many unexplained injuries, and he never seemed happy at home. One time he admitted to me that he'd been kicked out for the night, but I didn't read into it. I should've read into it."

"How old was he when that happened?" the judge asks.

After a moment of thinking, Annabeth responds, "Ten years old." The judge nods, prompting Annabeth to continue.

Gabe's defendant raises a hand, interrupting. "Permission to speak?"

"Go ahead."

"If it was so obvious that Mr Jackson was struggling at home, why on earth did it take you so long to clock on?" he asks, sharply raising a brow.

Annabeth knows the question is supposed to throw her off kilter. Taking a breath, she answers, "To keep me from finding out, he'd explain away the bruises with lies about crashing his bike. When his stepdad broke his wrist about a year ago, he told me he got beaten up in the trailer park. That kind of thing."

The defendant looks smug. "Tell me, Miss Chase—if he's been dishonest for so long, how can you know for sure that he's being honest now?"

Anger curls through Annabeth's bones, but she forces herself not to blow up. "He was only dishonest because he was trying to keep himself safe," she snaps. "I'll bet his sorry excuse for a stepfather hurt him so bad that he believed he had to lie."

"Please try to remain objective," the judge orders.

Annabeth's hands have curled into fists without her knowledge, and it takes a Herculean effort to relax them. "Okay," she murmurs, more for herself than for anyone else. "Percy started working at the age of eleven. Later, he told me that the reason he was saving all that time was because he wanted to move out in high school. The atmosphere at home must've been really awful. He wasn't safe in the trailer. He's _never_ been safe."

The prosecutor asks Annabeth some questions, drawing more information out of her that she otherwise might not have remembered to give. It seems like forever before she finally steps down from the witness stand, feeling light-headed. Percy is called up to give the victim's testimonial. He passes her on the aisle, taking to the stand as she sits down. Looking exposed and humiliated, Percy begins talking in a quietly uncertain voice. "It started back when I was a kid," he says. "When I was four, maybe. I can't remember a time when I wasn't scared of him." He goes into specifics about some of the things Gabe did to him, about the neglect he faced and how he had to overcome it alone. Noticing the way Percy's non-broken arm shakes at his side, Annabeth hates that he's been forced into this situation. She wants to take his trembling hand, so badly, and reassure him that he's going to be okay. He still won't look at her, but she understands why.

The jury seem moved by what Percy tells them. Annabeth reads sympathy in some of their expressions and stunned disbelief in others. However, none of them look anywhere near as angry Gabe; he's practically frothing at the mouth with it, glaring at his estranged stepson with a newfound rage. With wavering determination, Percy makes it through his testimony and sits down beside Annabeth once again. "You did really good," she whispers. At that, he meets her gaze and responds with a pained smile.

The rest of the trial passes in a haze. The rest of the evidence is presented, and then the defendant tries haplessly to tear into Percy's integrity. After that, it's a waiting game as the jury come to a decision. A tangible kind of tension hangs in the air. Annabeth can hear Percy's laboured breathing, can see the sweat beading on his brow. She desperately wants this hateful, traumatic experience to be over for him. It's impossible to imagine how it must feel to finally stand up to someone who held so much sway over his life for so long, and she respects the crap out of him.

At last, the jury's deliberations end. Utter silence descends upon the court as the judge finally announces, "Upon decision of the jury, the defendant has been found guilty. I hereby proclaim that Mr Ugliano will face a sentence of four years and a permanent restraining order." He writes something down, then bangs his gavel. "Case adjourned."

* * *

Annabeth's blood is boiling. Gabe deserved worse—so much worse. Percy's mute for the entire walk back to his apartment. When they get inside, she barely manages to contain her anger and closes the door a little too hard. Percy flinches, and Annabeth immediately hates herself. "Sorry. I'm sorry, I just—" She groans. "How the hell are you so okay with this?"

Percy sits down heavily on the bed. "I don't know," he says quietly. "I think I'm relieved."

"Relieved? How? He'll be out again in four years! He destroyed over a decade of your life—" She cuts herself off, knowing she's only making things worse. "God. I'm sorry," she repeats. She sits down beside him, letting out a sigh. Looking up at him, she furrows her brow. "How are you feeling?"

He shakes his head. "Stunned."

"I'm proud of you," she offers, knowing it needs to be said. "You did amazing. I never could've…" She trails off, then sighs. "I hate this. I hate that he gets to walk free so soon."

"I don't care about that," he tells her, voice empty.

"Why not? Four years isn't enough. You know that better than anyone!"

Percy turns to face her. "He's been pronounced guilty," he says, taking her by the wrists. His hands are warm and rough, scraped up by callouses. "When I was a kid…" He pauses. "I didn't know what he did to me was…wrong, I guess? No one was there to tell me. I thought it was my own fault for the longest time, until I figured it out. You helped me figure it out." He sounds pleading. "This trial gave me, I don't know, some fucking—confirmation."

She searches his face, coming up with nothing. "But—"

"Annabeth," he says, voice cracking. "This is enough."

"Okay," she whispers, burying her face in his shoulder. The fabric of his suit is unbearably soft, worn out over endless uses. "Okay." They lay down on his bed, shoulders pressed together.

Annabeth shifts onto her side to look at Percy, and he lets out a ragged exhalation. "I can't believe it's over," he says. "These last two months have been such a mess."

"Not a complete mess," she reasons. "We started dating. For real, not that sneaking-around shit we got so used to doing."

He smiles at her, genuine and warm. She thinks it might be the first time he's looked happy all day. "That's true. Wait, does this mean we have an anniversary in January, now?"

She grins. Said like that, it's equal parts exciting and terrifying. "Yep. And you better not forget it."

"Can't promise anything," he laughs. When she pokes him, he gives in, "Fine, I won't. You've got nothing to worry about."

"Wanna listen to some music?" Annabeth reaches over to the side of his bed, picking up the small, compact radio she usually leaves here. Percy watches as she fiddles with the dial, flicking through stations with ease. Eventually, she settles on one playing pop classics. They settle down to Prince, and Percy hums along hoarsely to _Purple Rain_. He touches the slant of Annabeth's cheek with his thumb, tracing circles.

She grins, leaning forward to properly kiss him. No words are required; though Annabeth is still intrepidly angry, a gentler kind of relief is beginning to wash over her. _Percy will be okay_ , she realises. They both will. He ruches up the hem of her shirt as his non-broken hand travels the warm plane of her waist, exploring familiar ground. As they melt into one another, it's easier than anything to decide to stop thinking for a while. They remain there as daytime melts away outside Percy's open window, and the air takes on a cold quality. The streetlights outside turn on, casting a yellow haze into the descending darkness. The light flickers over Percy, harshening the contours of his face.

They lie there for a while, content to talk. Annabeth can tell that Percy's mind is still fogged over with thoughts of the trial, but there's nothing much she can do about that except distract him. At least he's _letting_ her distract him—she knows his first instinct is always to withdraw. "I've been thinking about college again," she murmurs, fidgeting with his fingers. Their clasped hands rest on her stomach. She's undeniably obsessed with his hands: boyish and large-knuckled, there's something uncanny about them. In fact, there's something uncanny about Percy as a whole. It's what drew her to him in the first place.

"College?"

"Yeah," she responds. "I haven't been letting myself wonder about it for ages, but now…"

He turns onto his stomach, brow furrowing. "I don't think college is for me," he says. "I don't mind learning, but the structure's just too much, sometimes."

"I get what you mean," she says with a nod. "So you'll go straight for a job, then?"

"I was thinking an apprenticeship," he says slowly, tentatively. "Something to do with mechanics. Engineering, if I'm good enough. My grades aren't great, but I know a lot about cars."

Annabeth smiles. "You sure do."

"What about you?" he asks. "You used to love school. I know things have changed, but…" He shrugs. "I can imagine you as an academic."

She's silent for a few moments, pondering. "I don't know. I used to care so much about math, about scoring high in AP classes. And I've always maintained my GPA, so I could probably do well in something like that."

"Then why don't you?"

She heaves a sigh, hand stilling on Percy's. "I wouldn't be happy. Or satisfied, I guess. I think it's because I miss photography so much."

His expression is indistinct and unreadable. "You do?" It's hardly a question. "What do you miss about it?"

Pillowing her head on her elbow, she hums in thought. "The rush. The creativity it brought out of me. The control I had over the end product—the way I could make it declarative or interrogative. Beautiful, even." Percy's chewing on the inside of his cheek, thinking over her words. "I miss taking photos of you the most," she says quietly. "You were always my favourite subject." A pause. "Now I know why."

At that, he smiles. "I liked it. You made me feel important." He cocks his head. "Why don't you give photography another try? I bet you'd pick it up again easily, if you wanted. All those photography competitions you went for…you won a lot of them, I remember."

"Some of them," she corrects him. "And I don't think I would." She scoffs self-deprecatingly. "I've lost faith in myself—it's been so long. Nothing I could create would be worthwhile."

"Hey, a year isn't so long." He nudges her, grinning conspiratorially. "And for the record, everything you create is worthwhile."

Annabeth rolls her eyes. "God. Who the hell's paying you to be so sweet?" She kisses him, warmth bleeding into her chest.

He smiles against her lips, tucking a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. If she's obsessed with his hands, he's definitely obsessed with her hair. "I think you are."

"Jesus fucking Christ," she mutters. Defenceless, he laughs as she grips the fabric of his collar and allows her to lever him down against the sheets. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

"That's what you love about me," he quips.

She has to resist the urge to roll her eyes again. "Sure, Jackson," she says, kissing him again. Outside, a car screeches against the curb and the two of them jump, startled out of their joint reverie. Percy's nose bumps against her chin, and they find themselves laughing.

"Ow," he mumbles, rubbing his sore nose bridge. "We're a damn trainwreck, aren't we?"

She grins, flopping down next to him again. "Yeah. But that's fine, isn't it?"

Percy notices something. "You've got an eyelash on your cheek," he informs her, and reaches up to swipe it away with his thumb. He offers her the pale, blonde lash, and she blows it away into the air. "What did you wish for?"

"Just good luck."

He arches a brow. "That's it?"

"Well, I'm not gonna tempt fate, am I?"

Softly, he agrees, "I guess not." He studies her face with unassuming objectivity. "Have I ever said I like your freckles?" She shakes her head, awed by the moment. "They were the first thing I noticed about you."

"The first thing I noticed was the bruise on your face," she admits. "But after, it was the green of your eyes."

"I'll take that," he says. His smile is pleased, yet reminiscent of pain. "Hey, Annabeth?"

"Yeah?"

"Wanna go to the store? I'm craving orange juice."

"Not you, too," she groans. "Juice is all Leo drinks right now."

He grins. "I know it's late, but there's no way I'm gonna be able to sleep. Not after the trial. Please? It'll be fun."

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Annabeth stands up. Neither of them has yet dared to breach the topic of Percy's nightmares, but she knows he'll sleep better if he's tired. "Alright," she relents. "Can I borrow a jacket?"

Walking out into the brisk, cool night air feels like a reset. It's a nice night, all things considered—the canopy of clouds that's been so consistent all winter has melted away into a vacant, clear sky, and the sidewalk glistens with residual rainwater. Percy slips his arm around Annabeth's waist, exhaling a cloud of pale vapour. He looks content; the inherent ache that has been written into his features since the trial seems to have temporarily faded. Annabeth leans into him, grateful for the warmth. Though the jacket he lent her is comfortable, its fabric is still thin and fraying.

The 24-hour supermarket isn't too far a walk from Percy's apartment, and its artificial light spills out onto the parking lot. Annabeth's about to head inside, but Percy takes her sleeve and tugs her back with a grin. He gestures to the shopping carts. Confused, she asks, "Why? We're only getting one thing."

Percy slides one out of the rack, wheeling it towards her. "Wanna have some fun?"

She arches a brow. "Yeah…?" she says slowly, then realises what he means. "Oh, no. No way. You've got a broken arm!" she protests.

"C'mon, don't you trust me?" he laughs. "Get in."

Annabeth glares at him, but clambers into the cart. She clings on for dear life, the metal cold under her palms. "I'm so gonna regret this."

"Maybe," he says, running to push the cart past its initial inertia. He clings to the back of it as their trolley across the empty parking lot. Annabeth shrieks, suddenly wide awake and flooded with adrenaline. Percy laughs aloud, spinning them in circles. Eventually, they hit a pothole. Annabeth spills out with a curse, grazing her knee. She doesn't even care; she's elated. "Sorry," he winces. "That graze looks nasty."

"It's just a bit of gravel," she reassures him, kissing him on the cheek. "You were right. That was fun—completely crazy, but fun." He helps her up, still looking apologetic. In the dim light, he looks softer than anything. Annabeth can't help but kiss him again.

They head into the store, talking quietly. "We should get some Band-Aids for your knee," he decides.

"Percy, it's fine," she tries to tell him, but he's already making a beeline for the medicine aisle. Shaking her head with a smile, Annabeth wanders over to the refrigerators and grabs a carton of orange juice. "Do you like Reese's cups?" she asks when Percy rejoins her. He nods, so she grabs a packet from the candy aisle. She turns around to pay, but Percy's heading deeper into the supermarket. "What are you looking for?" she calls.

He throws a grin in her direction, continuing down the aisle. "Something." Curious, Annabeth follows him. It's not long before he finds what he's looking for: a shelf of disposable cameras. He picks up one at random, examining it.

Instantly, she catches on. "Oh. No, I'm good—"

"Annabeth," he says, a pleading note in his voice. "You said you missed it. And you started out with analog, didn't you? Maybe it'll help."

Struggling to sort through the tangled, sparking mess of emotions in her chest, she reasons, "Yeah, but I've never used a disposable."

He rolls his eyes. "I'm pretty sure you can work it out. Try, please? Just for tonight."

She opens her mouth to argue, but finds that she's unable to tear her gaze away from the plastic camera in Percy's hand. Against all reason, she says, "Alright. I'll try."

They sit outside in the parking lot after paying, cross-legged on the concrete. After washing the gravel out of her knee with water and applying a Band-Aid, Annabeth leans into Percy's shoulder as they eat their chocolate. Their voices are quiet, reticent echoes. "The sky looks huge," Percy says, gaze tilted upwards.

Annabeth can only nod in agreement. The parking lot's floodlights are off which reduces the light pollution around them, so the sky's not only vast but star-studded. She supposes there are some virtues that come with living in a small town in the countryside. "Reminds me of that night at the machine shop," she murmurs. "On the hood of that car." The memory ricochets through her. She remembers him admitting that he and Gabe didn't get along, that he was saving up to move out. Drawing her knees into her chest, she's suddenly frustrated with herself. How didn't she realise what was going on?

Percy's mind seems to go in the same direction—or maybe he's just reading hers. "I should've told you, then," he admits. "It wasn't your fault, okay? You couldn't have known." Annabeth doesn't know what to say. Her eyes travel upwards, settling on Orion's bow and his blazing belt. "It seems like such a long time ago," he adds. "Before—"

"The drugs," she finishes bluntly, because she's found it's easier to face it head-on. "Yeah."

His brow bunches up in the middle. "Yeah," he repeats softly.

She leans into him again, absently smoothing out the gold foil from one of her Reese's cups. "I only think about them sometimes," she tells him. "Things are better. You make things better."

He smiles, then kisses her on the cheek. "It isn't because of me that you don't do that shit anymore, you know. It's because of you. You're strong enough on your own."

"You think so?" she whispers, lips quirking.

"Of course, you idiot. Now—" He grabs the disposable camera they bought, standing up. "Wanna take some photos?"

The lighting is god-awful, even with flash, and Annabeth's certain most of the photos will turn out blurry. Still, this moment in time seems worthy of being captured. There's something beautifully familiar about holding a camera in her hand and taking photos of Percy, of all things. Composition's always been her strong point. And strangely, it doesn't feel like a year has passed since she last took a photograph at all.

After a while Annabeth finds herself standing with Percy against a streetlight, the camera falling to her side as she kisses him. Pulling away, she confesses, "I'm so happy right now." He kisses her back in silent reply, the camera long-since forgotten. The night, in all its glory, is entirely theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is so fluffy and I have no regrets :') thanks for reading, let me know what you thought! if you want, you can drop me an ask about it over on [my tumblr](https://stolen-arts.tumblr.com). the next chapter should be up on sunday as usual!


	29. phantom wounds

Virginia has settled into spring with more force than necessary, and the weather's quickly getting warmer. With it, Percy has plunged back into work. His arm's pretty much healed, though it does twinge once in a while. Lucy makes it clear to him that he should ease back into work slowly, but Percy takes no notice. His injuries have healed up, so he needs to be working. Fixing cars is the one thing he's good at, and returning to it is helping him feel human again.

It's late evening, and he's working on getting a difficult job finished. It's a sleek, black sports car that was crashed by some reckless rich kid who blew in the side door and fucked up the engine. Percy's lying on a creeper tray under the car, wrench in hand as he identifies and fixes the issues with the undercarriage with methodical efficiency. Except he isn't being efficient; his body's protesting the labour, making things more difficult for him than they ought to be. Recently, his joints have become stiff and sore—moving his body hurts, which is pissing him off. He was used to dealing with pain when he lived in the trailer, but he's out of there now. There's nothing causing the pain, so shouldn't it have gone?

Percy figures everyone gets like this when they push themselves too hard. It would make sense; he pushes himself harder than most. Still, he has no point of reference. Maybe his body has always ached like this, and he just never noticed because he was usually in a worse, more urgent kind of pain. Or maybe this perpetual fatigue is nothing but an echo of what Gabe put him through, a lingering ghost of the damage—but that's impossible. Releasing a ragged sigh, he lets his head fall back onto the tray with a clank. It's a continual, conscious effort not to roll his aching shoulder. Distantly, he wonders if he's going crazy. There's nothing wrong with him. He _knows_ there isn't. Closing his eyes, he thinks about how nice it would be to take a nap beneath the car's greasy underside.

Shaking off his stupor, he opens his eyes and forces himself to get back to work. He's stronger than this, stronger than his own fucking bones, tissues and ligaments that are freezing up and turning against him.

After his shift, he's ready to get back inside his empty, cold apartment and sleep the pain away until he has to get up for school tomorrow morning. But when he reaches his door, he does a double take. One of the social workers assigned to him is standing there, clutching a folder: Dianne Luce. She's wearing a long coat. Idly, she checks her watch—as though she's been waiting a while. Hearing him approach, she turns around to meet him with a grin. "Percy! Lovely to see you." She's British, and clips her words in a way that's incongruous to this part of the South. "Sorry it's so late, but I didn't want to tell you this over the phone."

Uncertain, Percy arches a brow. "Tell me what?"

"Well, there's no easy way to say this—but we've been looking into your case, and we uncovered something we think it's important for you to know about." She hesitates. "Could we go inside? I'd rather you be sitting down." Still confused, Percy fumbles for his key and unlocks the door.

Dianne turns the chair at his desk around and sits in it, facing his bed. She motions for him to take a seat on his bed. Complying, he asks, "What's this about? Why couldn't you tell me over the phone?"

She clasps her hands, leaning forward. "Now, Percy. How much do you know about your mother?"

"My mother?" he stutters. "Uh…Not much. Gabe never mentioned her."

"He didn't?"

Percy shakes his head slowly. "Whenever I asked, he always shut me down. I kinda assumed she was dead."

Dianne nods, like that's what she was expecting. "Well, she's alive. I expect the reason we didn't previously know about her is because she isn't in the mainstream system."

Blindsided, he gapes. "What?"

"Her name is Sally Jackson," she tells him, adjusting her glasses. She opens the file, offering him a piece of paper. A document.

Apprehensive, he takes it. There's an ID photo printed in the corner: a mugshot. Her hair's black and wavy, framing a face that's shaped similarly to his own. She's unsmiling, but the gentle crow's feet tugging at her eyes are reminiscent of past happiness. He lets out an involuntary gasp, holding the paper tighter with shaking hands. At the top of the page are the words _Virginia Correctional Centre For Women._ "She's in prison," he breathes. Head jerking up, he meets Dianne's eyes and repeats, "She's in prison. What the fuck? Why didn't I know about her?"

Lips pursed, her expression bleeds sympathy. "I'm sorry, Percy."

"What's she in there for? What did she do?" he half-shouts, choking back waves of frustration. The thought of having _two_ fuck-up parents is somehow too much for him to bear. He scans the rest of the paper, but his fogged-up brain is unable to make out the legal jargon. Desperate for answers, he shoots Dianne a pleading look.

"Attempted murder," she tells him quietly. "She was taken to court by your stepfather. It's written in the records that during one of their arguments, she attacked him with an iron poker and almost killed him. At the time, you would've been only a few months old."

His mind whirls, struggling to make sense of the information. "She tried to kill Gabe? But…why? What happened?"

"Listen to me, Percy," she says urgently. "In light of your stepfather's trial, we have reason to believe that their court case may have come to an unfounded conclusion. During the case, she tried to claim self-defence. It's possible that he _was_ violent towards her—in the same way he was towards you."

He drops his head into his hands, overwhelmed and suffocated. "This is so much. God, she's been in there since I was a kid? How much more time does she have left to serve?"

"A year and a half," Dianne responds. "There's no way we could upturn her sentence now, but it doesn't matter much. She'll be out soon, anyway."

"Can I…" He swallows. "Can I see her?"

"If you like. But, Percy, you need to remember that she doesn't know you. She might very well be hostile towards you, alright? She's a prisoner."

"I know that," he says hoarsely. "I just wanna speak to her. Do you think…?" He trails off. His shock's beginning to fade into exhaustion. He wants to sleep, but he knows he'll have to face this mess in the morning.

Dianne seems to pick up on his uncertainty. Leaving him the form, she closes the folder and stands up. "I've got to head off, but don't hesitate to call if you need anything. Are you available Saturday afternoon? We can arrange a trip to the prison for you. I believe visiting hours are open then."

He nods wordlessly. "Thanks, Dianne." Numbness has overtaken him, and he just wants to lie down. Leaving him with a warm smile, she closes the door behind her. Alone with his thoughts, Percy can't stop staring at the form in his hands. _Sally Jackson._ It's a strange thing, to suddenly know the face of the mother he never knew. There's no trace of her in his life, not even a distant memory. No evidence that she even existed, except for his last name—and this document. He wonders for a moment why Gabe never had it changed, but he knows it's stupid to wonder; he never saw Percy as a son. Why would he want to make it official?

Kicking his shoes off, he flops back onto his bed and lets the document slip onto the floor. He's almost thankful that the aching of his joints dampens his sprawling, messy thoughts. Wishing he had some ibuprofen, he closes his eyes. He'll have to sleep the pain away.

* * *

The next morning, he can't get back into his head. He zones in and out of Friday's lessons, only having the presence of mind to scribble a few lines of notes if he's prompted. Percy's used to getting like this sometimes—it's been happening for years—but never before has the vacancy been so all-encompassing. Annabeth definitely notices. She doesn't say anything, only attaches herself a little more firmly to his side at lunchtime and nudges him gently when someone's trying to get his attention.

He doesn't tell her about his mom. He _can't_ , not when his own feelings are so confused and half-formed. He has no idea what she's like, if she'll even want to see him after so much time has passed. Anticipation churns in his stomach; he doesn't know whether he should be intrigued or terrified. The word _self-defence_ clangs through him, scorching his synapses like a lightning strike. It's sickening to know that along with everything Gabe took from him, he might have also taken away his mother. When he gets home from his shift that night, he lies awake for hours. Exhaustion eventually overtakes him. As usual, nightmares find him in the dark.

Dianne picks him up from his apartment on Saturday afternoon, still wearing his mechanic clothes. He didn't have time to change. Even though he knows looking presentable in front of the mother he never knew is the least of his problems, fear still twists up his stomach. "How are you feeling about this?" she asks cautiously.

He didn't realise his inner turmoil was so obvious. "Fine," he lies, watching Virginia's countryside rush past the window. Drizzle trickles down the glass, distorting the outside world into a lucid watercolour painting. Picking at his torn cuticle, he concedes, "I don't know what I'm going to make of her."

"You don't need to make anything of her," Dianne reassures him. "Just show her that you're alive. Let her know your stepdad's no longer in your life, maybe. I've got no idea how she'll react, but I expect she'll want you to hear her out."

In his gut, Percy already knows that Gabe was the perpetrator in the fight the two of them had. Though he can't speak for what Gabe was like when Percy was a baby, he knows first-hand how little it takes to drive his stepdad to violence. He wishes with a fervent desperation that he could've found out about her earlier, if only so he knew there was _someone_ out there. Still, he hates how easy it is to idealise the image of her. It's stupid to think that a woman who's been in prison for sixteen years will be anything more than tolerant towards him, but the dream of it still flutters in his chest. "Hey, Dianne?"

"Yeah?"

He hesitates, realising he's picked his cuticle raw; a tiny bead of blood blooms at the edge of it. Smoothing the blood away, he trains his eyes on the road ahead. "Is she even gonna want to speak to me?"

Dianne's glances at him. "We'll find out when we get there."

The prison is smaller than Percy was expecting, with brick walls and a tiled roof. His gaze catches on the blue sign at the entrance that reads _Commonwealth of Virginia: Department of Corrections._ They sign in at the lobby and are escorted by a prison guard into the visiting room. A few other visitors are in there, speaking to their incarcerated loved ones through the window cubbies. "She'll be at No.18," Dianne informs him. "You okay with speaking to her alone?"

Percy nods. Balling his hands into fists to stop them from shaking, he walks over to the eighteenth cubby and sits down, looking through the glass. His mom isn't here yet. He waits for a few minutes, heart pounding. At last, a woman sits down on the other side of the glass. She looks nothing like the ID photo. Her once long and wavy hair has been shorn into a frizzy bob and her face is comprised of tired lines, worn down by years of incarceration. She's a skeletal imitation of her former self. Percy reaches for the phone on his side a beat before she picks up her own, angling it against his ear and mouth.

Sally speaks first. "Percy," she says hoarsely. "They told me you were coming."

He has no idea what to say. "Uh…yeah. It's me."

"How are you?" she asks primly, expression under careful control. And if not for the slight tremor of her voice, he would've bought her mask of emotionlessness.

"I'm alright," he responds. Under her scrutiny, it takes a moment to gather the courage to say anything more. "What's it like here?"

"Well, it's not very exciting, that's for sure." Percy could've guessed that. Sally's scanning his face, like she's looking for something. "You look different than I'd have guessed," she says quietly, an echo of her subconsciousness.

He shifts, uncomfortable. "How's that?"

"You're tall. I never pictured you so tall."

Suddenly, he's irritated. "Well, I never pictured you as anything. I didn't even know you existed."

"You didn't?" she asks, brow furrowing for a moment. "I always thought you just didn't want to see me."

"Gabe never told me about you. About anything."

"I guess that makes sense," she says quietly.

Percy grips the phone tighter, fighting an illogical surge of anger. He grits out, "I would've wanted to know you."

At that, a genuine, hopeful smile tugs at her mouth. She's already given up, though; her surrender is clear in the slump of her hunched-up, small shoulders and the worry lines on her forehead. "Does Gabe know you're here?"

"No," he says, shaking his head. There's so much he wants to tell her, but so little time. "No, he doesn't. He's going to prison—I've got a restraining order against him."

At that, she sits up straight. "What? He hurt you?"

"Yeah. I figure he hurt you, too. But he doesn't matter anymore, okay?"

The practised veneer of emotionlessness has fallen away from her face, betraying horror and disgust. "I let this happen. I can't believe I let this happen."

"No, mom—"

"Don't call me that," she hisses. "I haven't done anything to deserve that."

Frustration prickles his throat. "I know, okay? But I want to forgive you. Now that Gabe's gone, maybe we can…" He trails off, uncertain. _Get to know each other better? Build a relationship?_ He has no fucking idea how to clear out a space for her in his life, or if that's even what he wants to do.

She seems to hear the unspoken words. Steadily, she asks, "Are you doing okay? Are you living somewhere safe?"

Caught off guard, he stutters out, "Yeah. I live alone."

She nods, reassured. "Don't let him get near you again, okay? Promise me that."

"I wasn't going to let him," he says firmly. That annoys him, for some reason. Why would he ever give his stepfather the time of day? He's deathly fucking scared of him. "God. You don't have to tell me that."

Sally closes her eyes. "You're right. I'm sorry." Silence hangs between them for a moment, a living beast. "I don't know how to ask this," she mutters, "but what's your life like? What do you do for fun? Do you have a—a girlfriend, or somebody?"

This feels like unsafe ground. Still, he takes a risk and humours her. "I…" He hesitates. "I fix cars—I work in an auto shop. I like skateboarding. And, yeah, I have a girlfriend."

Sally's smile is warm and infectious. "You must be clever, if you're working somewhere specialised. What's your girlfriend's name?"

"Annabeth," he admits _._ "She's real nice. Blonde, smart as hell. I've known her since I was ten."

"Childhood sweethearts? I wish I could have been around to see that. To see you grow up." A heavy pause. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault."

She appraises him. "How do you know that? How do you know I really didn't try to kill him for no reason?"

Percy doesn't even have to think about his answer. "Because I know Gabe, and I know he's an ugly piece of work. It's not hard to believe he might have initiated the violence."

She scoffs. "You're one of the few who think that, then."

"Maybe," he says with a shrug. "Why, you reckon I'm being naive?"

"No," she responds, almost inaudibly. "I don't think you're being naive at all." Behind Percy, a guard lets them know that they have one minute of visitation time remaining.

Percy feels torn in half. He doesn't want to leave his mom—he's only just found her again. "Would it be okay if I came back here?" he asks her. "Next weekend, when visitation hours are open."

"I'd like that very much."

"And can you call me, whenever they give you the chance?"

"I can," she whispers. An uncertain, impossible kind of hope seems to unfold behind Sally's dark eyes. "Of course I can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, let me know what you thought! the next chapter will be up on wednesday as usual. you can keep up with me on [my tumblr](https://stolen-arts.tumblr.com) :)


	30. go somewhere, breathe distant air

For Percy, even beginning to get to know his mom is a slow process that eclipses weeks. She follows through on her promise to call him from the prison, and though their conversations can never be long, he still treasures every minute of call time he has with her. Neither of them are quite ready to let their walls down yet, but he thinks they might, given time. That's probably the reason he hasn't told Annabeth about her; he's terrified that this is too good to be true.

Sally is frustratingly evasive whenever he asks about her life before she was sentenced. Still, he can understand her reasons for being vague. He knows next to nothing about her past, except that whenever she tries to talk about it her voice becomes tinged with pain. Sometimes Percy comes close to asking about his father—his _real_ father—but ends up biting his tongue every time.

Annabeth sleeps around his apartment most nights, as neither of them like being by themselves. It's an arrangement that works; living alone can be an ordeal. Maybe it would make more sense for them to stay around Annabeth's estate, but an apartment is the perfect size for two touch-starved teenagers. Plus, Percy can tell she hates being there without her family. It must be weird, especially she grew accustomed to it over so many years of her life. She has spare clothes at his apartment, now, and a toothbrush. And pyjamas. Percy would be lying if he said it didn't feel nice—an easy kind of stability.

Usually, Annabeth is the one who keeps them both awake. With her insomnia, she'll toss and turn for hours on end before getting to sleep. Her nightmares have been getting better recently, though, and once she's asleep she can usually stay that way. It's a huge step forward for her. And maybe he's off target, but Percy thinks his presence might be helping. Her under-eye bags in the days after she sleeps at his apartment are always better than nights when she's alone at her estate.

Percy's never had much of a problem with his sleep. At the trailer, he was accustomed to being as quiet and withdrawn as possible, and this demeanour extended past his waking hours. In sleep, he always naturally lay still and silent. But since he's been at the apartment, it's like a switch has flipped in his brain. Somehow, being far from his stepfather has taught his mind that it's safe to be loud. Safe to work through things, maybe. Either way, he's been having nightmares. Night horrors, almost, which he never experienced even when he was a kid. It's always the same; he'll dream he's trapped inside the trailer. There'll be his stepfather, and then there'll be pain. Percy has jolted awake more times in the last week more than he ever has in the entirety of his life.

He hates it. He wishes he could go back to lying silent and undisturbed all night—he needs all the rest he can get to make it through his late shifts. Still, he doesn't think the nightmares will be going away any time soon.

They never sleep while touching each other. Annabeth, of course, is a light sleeper; the brush of his arm against hers is enough to wake her up. But Percy's perception of touch hovers somewhere between traumatic and tolerable, and only recently is Annabeth beginning to change that. When he's awake, he has the presence of mind to know that he's safe, so it's easy to convince himself to relax against Annabeth's shoulder, or reach out to hold her hand. But when he's asleep, his thoughts aren't there to guard him against his usual associations with touch. So the two of them sleep with their backs to each other, and will only relax into one another when morning comes.

On Saturday night, Annabeth stays around his apartment just like she always does on the weekend. After watching a movie on her laptop, they switch off the light and settle down. Percy falls asleep first—the fatigue that's plagued his body for the last few months has yet to go away. Soon enough, REM sleep washes over him in waves. In the usual routine, Percy finds himself back in the trailer. Though the world has lost its colour, he knows with hateful certainty that this is real—wasn't the trailer always bleached and lifeless? He's standing in the hallway, surrounded by writhing shadows. His body aches. He hears Gabe shout. There's a blow, and then he's on the floor, bleeding. Something smashes, and suddenly glass is buried in his side. Curling up into a ball, it's all he can do to block out the shadows and the pain and Gabe's abrasive voice bellowing in his ear—

Someone's hand closes around his shoulder. He wakes violently, letting out a hoarse shout. Sweat clings to his skin and his lungs burn with the effort of his quickfire breathing. He lashes out at whoever's in front of him, terrified of their touch and the fading sensation of those glass shards Gabe kicked into his side. But then they take his wrists and guide them down, placating. "Percy," they're saying. It's Annabeth, kneeling on the bed in front of him. She looks soft and warm, only recently wrenched from sleep. Crimson blood trickles from her nose. Did he strike her? "Percy, you're safe."

"Annabeth," he gasps out, trying to force down the panic rearing up in him. "God. Did I hurt you? Are you okay?" He hesitantly touches her face, thumbing away the blood.

"I'm fine. It was my fault," she insists. "I shouldn't have touched you."

Percy's already catastrophizing. "Oh, God. I hurt you. I can't believe I hurt you."

"It wasn't on purpose. You weren't even awake," she rebukes, fixing him with a glare that warns him against trying to argue. He holds his upper arms tight, caging himself in. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

He knows she's asking about the nightmare. He shakes his head, but relents a second later. "I was in the trailer with Gabe. Same as usual."

"I could tell you were dreaming. You kept muttering under your breath. I wanted to wake you up, but I couldn't without touching you. When you started kicking, I panicked and grabbed you anyway. Sorry."

"Don't apologise. Please."

"Okay," she whispers.

"Besides, I'm the one who should be sorry," he mutters. "I hit you. And it probably took you ages to get to sleep."

Her brows scrunch up. "Don't say that. It wasn't your fault." They're both silent for a moment, stewing in unspoken words and uncertainties. She grabs a tissue from his bedside table, stemming her nosebleed as Percy watches. He's disgusted with himself. "Do you wanna try and sleep again? You've got work in the morning."

Tentatively, he nods. They get back under the covers, pulling the quilt up to their chins. Though they face each other, neither of them dares to close the distance between their now-cold bodies. "Goodnight," he whispers.

Annabeth offers him a smile. Moonlight filters through the blinds, painting her hair with streaks of silver. "Night," she responds, closing her eyes.

* * *

Junior year continues to be draining, but at least it's almost over. With the arrival of summer, Percy's mood improves. Summer's always been his favourite season because it reminds him of when he first met Annabeth. Life was hell back then, but she made things better just by coming into it. His body aches in the same way it's been aching for a while now, but the absence of cold weather relieves a little of the stiffness in his joints. Nonetheless, he feels like his body's turning to stone.

When school finally dissolves for the summer, Piper decides they should all plan a trip away. "Like that summer we went to the beach house, remember?"

Percy agrees easily—he remembers a time when he thought they were never gonna get to go away like that again. It will hopefully feel like a return to normalcy, which he knows Annabeth needs. "I really missed you last summer, when we were freezing each other out," she admits to him all of a sudden. They're heading to Piper's house to meet the others, so they can plan the trip. "Can we do our usual charm exchange this year?" She sounds unsure.

Percy forgot about that. He doesn't often wear the leather bracelet with the beads he received annually from Annabeth as he's scared of losing it at work, but Annabeth always wears hers. He occasionally notices her fidgeting with it subconsciously, deep in thought. "Yeah. Let's do it," he says with a smile. "It's tradition, right?"

At Piper's house, they work hard to plan the trip. "It's probably too late to book that house we stayed in last time," Piper muses, clicking through listings on her laptop. "Any ideas?"

"What about one of those mobile home places?" Jason asks.

"No," Percy responds. He doesn't want to say it'd be too much like the trailer.

Thankfully, Annabeth seems to catch on. She's sitting half on top of him—they're sharing one of Piper's beanbags. "Maybe not," she agrees, playing with his fingers. "Those are so expensive." He smiles at her, a quiet _thank you._

"Why don't we go camping?" Nico suggests. "I know a lake site where we could set up. It's not far from the beach, either, and there's a village fairly close by."

Leo wrinkles his nose. He's lying on Piper's bed, staring at the maps. "Really? Wouldn't staying in an actual house be nicer?"

"I don't mind camping," Jason offers. "It can be super fun. Plus, I bet Thalia would let us borrow her tent. It can fit, like, ten people."

"Ask if she and Reyna wanna come," Annabeth tells him with a grin. "Then she can drive."

He glares at her. "I can drive."

"You failed your test!"

"I've got my provisional," he protests. "Plus, I'm taking it again next month."

"Jason. Babe," Piper says. "No offence, but I want someone who can actually drive behind the wheel of the car I'm in." He pouts, but his expression softens when she kisses him on the cheek. Their relationship has been on-and-off for several months now. Right now, they're _on_. It's like they're in a perpetual honeymoon phase—they're so fucking sappy, but their fights are often volatile and blown out of proportion. Leo sometimes jokes that if their relationship was stable then they wouldn't have anything to write songs about, and Percy doesn't think he's too far off the mark.

Leo sighs dramatically. "I guess we're camping, then."

The next weekend, the eight of them drive out to the lake. The campsite Nico was talking about isn't an official one, and it's practically untouched in terms of seclusion. The sun beats down on them as they set up the tent, talking and laughing, but the wind rippling across their bare skin is enough to keep them cool. Annabeth has a smear of unblended sunscreen over her nose, and Percy gently rubs it in with his thumb. With her cascading blonde hair and muted yellow summer dress, she looks incandescent. She doesn't usually wear her hair down; Percy is enchanted.

Once the tent is set up, they grab their towels and head out to the lake. It's surrounded by a circle of overgrown trees, and the water is serene and clear. Reyna and Thalia set up a speaker on the grass, letting music reverberate through the clearing. For once, Percy doesn't have to worry about anyone seeing bruises on his body when he strips to his swimming trunks. Yeah, there are scars, but so what? They're pale and faded; no one has to worry about them anymore.

Annabeth grabs his hand, having changed into her bikini. "Wanna jump into the lake?" Joining hands, they take a running jump. Their shrieks echo through the clearing as they crash into the cold water, hands ripped away from each other as they submerge.

Percy surfaces again a second later. "Christ, it's freezing," he splutters.

Annabeth laughs, treading circles to stay afloat. Her loose hair flows fluidly in the water behind her as she kicks onto her back. "Hey, it's not that bad," she responds, but her teeth chatter even as she says it. They adjust to the cold quickly, and soon enough it's actually pleasant. The sunlight warms their skin as they swim deeper into the lake. Thalia jumps in next, closely followed by Piper and the others.

They stay there for an hour or so, caught up in the bliss of the soothing water. Piper and Leo start a splashing war in the shallows, cussing each other out. Soon enough, the rest of them join in, picking sides. Percy hasn't had this much fun in a while—the moment embodies everything that's good about summer.

When he and Annabeth climb out of the water, they wrap up quickly in towels to fend off the goosebumps that prickle their skin. But instead of changing back into their clothes, they dry off and lie down in the grass, letting the blustering sun wash over their skin. Percy has to remind Annabeth to reapply sunscreen every so often. She does so, albeit reluctantly. Wrinkling her nose, she complains, "I hate how sticky sunscreen is."

"You always get so many freckles in summer," he says absently, admiring the newfound dusting of freckles on her shoulders. With a fingertip, he traces them lightly: a dot-to-dot pattern.

"Yeah, I know," she sighs, smearing sunscreen over her arms. "It's annoying."

Incredulous, he asks, "Annoying? Why?"

"I don't know. I never liked them."

He shakes his head in disbelief. "Well, _I_ like them. They're cute."

Colour rises to her cheeks, and she smiles. "Thanks."

Back at the campsite, they while away the hours by playing card games and kicking around the soccer ball Jason brought. Percy's rarely played soccer, but he picks it up easily. They set up a makeshift game. Annabeth's surprisingly good at offense, and pumps the air with a fist when she scores yet another point against his team. "Yes! Suck on that." Percy just grins in response. He doesn't have much pride to speak of, and he likes when Annabeth wins things because it makes her happy.

That night, he wakes up to Annabeth whispering his name. Blinking sleep out of his eyes, he squints through the darkness. He can only just make out her face. "Percy," she says again. "You awake?"

"I am now," he mutters. Raising a finger to her lips, she beckons him.

He throws off his quilt, still confused. "What?"

"Shh. Don't wake anyone else up." Slowly and quietly, she unzips the tent. The others are still curled up in their sleeping bags, fast asleep. Piper's drooling on Jason. Nico's arm is thrown over Leo, his head tilted towards him on the pillow they're sharing. Thalia and Reyna are facing each other, as though they fell asleep talking. Percy has to smile at the sight. "Come on," Annabeth urges him. "Look outside."

He crawls over, making as little noise as possible. Poking his head out, he gasps. Hundreds upon thousands of fireflies hover around the field, surrounding their tent and filling the skies above. Laughing under her breath at his shocked expression, Annabeth ducks out of the tent. He grabs a blanket and follows her, stepping into his slides as he zips up the tent behind him. She walks barefoot out into the field, gazing in awe at the fireflies. Each one is a golden, drifting ember, flickering on and off in the cold night air. As Percy approaches her, he hears her whisper, "Wow." Their neon light reflects on her face, catching on her pale lashes.

He laughs, suddenly euphoric. "This is so cool. How did you know to look out here?"

"Couldn't sleep. I could see their light faintly through the tent's canvas." She pauses, shaking her head in wonder. "They're pretty, huh?"

"They sure are," he murmurs, tilting his head upwards.

Pulling the blanket around their shoulders, they sit down on the grass to watch the fireflies. "I'm visiting Helen next weekend," she murmurs.

"With Bobby and Matthew?"

She nods. "Yeah. I've been meaning to ask…do you want to come? I know you miss her. She's basically your mom, too."

"Yeah, that'd be nice," he smiles. "Thanks. Is she doing better recently?"

Annabeth makes a face. "Not really. She only recognises me sometimes."

"Oh," he murmurs. He so desperately wants to tell her about Sally, but some part of him is terrified to. His relationship with his mom is still in such early, dangerous waters that bringing Annabeth into the equation feels like a risk. Letting out a sigh, he relaxes against her. "She'll be okay, you know. She'll get better."

"You think so?" Annabeth replies, sounding hollow. A firefly flutters up close to them, buzzing gently as its light flickers on and off. It brings a smile to Annabeth's face as she watches it, grey eyes intent. "Ever heard of femme fatale fireflies?" she asks, head falling to rest on Percy's shoulder. Despite it being a warm night, she's shivering slightly—he always forgets how cold-blooded she is.

"I haven't," he prompts, slipping an arm around her waist. He kisses her cheek softly, enjoying the closeness. Touch can be bearable, when it's like this.

"Well, the male fireflies are the ones in the air," she explains. "They use their flashes to attract females, who wait in the long grass and only light up in response to a male. Femme fatales stay in the grass and light up when a male is near in the same way as other females, but instead of mating with them, they eat them."

Percy wrinkles his nose. "So they're cannibals?"

"Nah, they're not actually the same species—even though they appear to be the same."

"Huh. That's kinda cool." He pauses. "How do you even know all this random shit, anyway?"

After a moment of hesitation, she admits, "When I can't sleep, sometimes I'll sit on my laptop for hours, going down rabbit holes of information on Wikipedia until morning."

He grins. "So _that's_ why you're such a brainbox."

"Shut up," she mutters, trying and failing to fight off a smile. Reaching up, she tilts his head down to face hers and kisses him softly. "I'm really glad I'm here. With you."

Smiling into the kiss, he whispers, "I'm glad, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wanna sit in a field of fireflies with a childhood friend-turned-lover :') thanks for reading! let me know what you thought. feel free to drop me an ask on [my tumblr](https://stolen-arts.tumblr.com) :)


	31. lifelines and addictions

Helen's psychiatric hospital isn't an awful place. It's not gloomy like she expected it to be the first time she came here, or filled with pained faces and shadowed halls. Rather, it's lined with windows that let light in. Most of the patients here seem content—even happy. Percy's walking beside her on the way to Helen's room, a nervous look on his face. He's holding the daffodils they bought for her. It's been a long time since he's seen Helen, and Annabeth knows he has no idea what to make of all this.

Her brothers walk slightly ahead. Back when they were young, Bobby and Matthew were indistinguishable to strangers, every inch the twins they are. That isn't the case anymore; while Matthew still bears his signature brown curls, Bobby's bleached his hair lighter than Annabeth's and wears black, baggy clothes. While he's desperate to grow up, Matthew's terrified to. She wishes they'd tell her more about how things are at the group home.

"You okay?" Percy whispers. He looks pensive, as though he's not sure he's allowed to ask.

"I'm good. I just want this to be over."

He squeezes her hand. "You never know, she might be feeling better."

At that, Annabeth wants to scoff. "I doubt that."

"Why?" They're nearly at Helen's room, now.

"Because she's always the same, Percy. Nothing's changed in months."

He doesn't respond. Bobby and Matthew are waiting outside Helen's door. "You ready?" Bobby asks. He looks bored, but Annabeth can recognise a front when she sees one. Percy nods in response. She braces herself as she pushes the door open, wrestling a smile onto her face.

Helen's sitting in a chair at the window, looking out into the bright day. She doesn't react as they come in, caught up in whatever thoughts—or lack thereof—are running rampant in her head. Matthew calls, "Hi, Mom."

Annabeth walks into the room, pulling out the chair beside Helen. "Hey. We brought flowers for you—look."

Percy offers her the daffodils, but she still hasn't registered their presence. Annabeth reaches out, tugging on her sleeve. Finally, she turns her head slowly towards them. "Flowers?" she murmurs. He holds them out, letting her take them. She seems mesmerised.

"It's Percy," he tells her. "Do you recognise me?"

Her eyes slip past his face, as though she's trying to get a lock on him but can't quite manage it. "We're here too, Mom," Matthew pushes. He looks to be on the verge of tears. "How are you?"

"I…" Helen trails off, grasping for words that aren't there. "Did you bring Frederick with you?"

Annabeth's chest aches. "No, Helen. He's gone. He's not here."

That doesn't seem to compute. Percy kneels beside her suddenly, taking her hand. "You know me," he says. "Remember?"

Though her gaze remains vacant, she tries to take Percy in. "Oh," she murmurs. "We fixed your bike, didn't we?"

Percy's expression cracks slightly. "Yeah. Annabeth said you'd be able to help."

"Oh. You're Annabeth's friend." She pauses. "Why didn't you let me walk you to your door?"

Percy's brows knot together. "Sorry?"

"You played on the swings for hours." Helen tugs her hand from Percy's grasp as she turns back to the open window. "Then I drove you home, but you didn't let me walk you to your door." Annabeth tries to contain her shock; though senseless, this is the most Helen's spoken in a while.

Bobby crosses his arms, muttering, "Why the fuck do we even bother? She's talking nonsense." Annabeth wants to reprimand him for swearing, but squashes the instinct—she's not going to pretend to be their mother.

"She isn't," Percy says quietly. He shakes his head as he stands up, lips curved down in thought.

Annabeth has no idea what Helen's talking about. "What are you saying?" she pleads. Helen doesn't respond, and Annabeth can tell the subject has already dissolved from her consciousness. She sighs. "I've been taking photos again. I was thinking I could bring a few of them next time we come."

"Photos?" she hums, dispassionate.

"Yeah. I'm going to take the elective again, when senior year starts." Annabeth is aware that trying to converse with her stepmother is meaningless, but she'll never stop trying. Helen smooths a finger over one of the daffodils' loose petals, tracing its translucent veins.

Bobby scuffs the floor with the toe of his sneaker. "This is so stupid. I'm waiting outside." He shuts the door hard, an echo of his latent anger.

Matthew's eyes are wet. "Mom, please." He sniffs, wiping his nose with a sleeve. "I can't do this," he mumbles. Annabeth closes her eyes as he follows his brother, closing the door behind him with a soft click. She wishes she could make them stay, but that wouldn't be fair.

"Is this how it always goes?" Percy whispers.

Annabeth's voice cracks when she answers, "Pretty much."

"Okay," he says, then pulls out the chair beside Annabeth's. "So, she's starting photography again. I'm taking an extra class in Math to see if I can boost my GPA. I'll need it, if I want to find an apprenticeship in mechanics." Though Helen seems uninterested, Annabeth doesn't think she imagines the way her tense jaw relaxes. He keeps talking, filling up the unsettling silence. Annabeth sags with relief. It's easy to cling onto his voice and at the very least, she's thankful that someone else dares to shoulder the burden for a short while.

After visitation, they head out of the institution to wait for their cab. Bobby and Matthew stand by the wall outside, talking quietly. Bobby still looks visibly angry, but at least Matthew's stopped crying. Annabeth digs her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket, letting out a pent-up breath of air. It's warm outside, and birds flutter from branch to branch in the trees bordering the hospital. Percy nudges her. "Hey."

"Hmm?"

"I got you something."

Shaking off her surprise, she turns to face him. "You did?"

"Yeah. I know it's not your birthday for a few days, but now's as good a time as any, right?"

"We don't usually do gifts," she says slowly, but curiosity gets the better of her. "Alright, what is it?"

Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he withdraws a small package and gives it to her. The tissue is smooth and fragile beneath her touch. "We said we were doing the charm swap this year, right?"

She gasps. A tiny charm falls into her palm as she carefully tears away the tissue, barely the size of her fingertip. It's a silver firefly, with amber glass embedded at the end of its tail. "God, you're such a fucking sap," she mutters, but can't fight off her smile. "Where did you even find this?"

He shrugs, but he's clearly pleased. "Just that jewellery place in town. I always go there for your charms."

Shaking her head, she kisses his cheek. "It's beautiful. Thank you." Reaching back, she unclasps her necklace and slides on the firefly bead alongside the other six. Though there's one year missing in the story of how long they've known each other, Annabeth doesn't mind. It's better that the events of last year are left forgotten.

"You really like it?"

"Yeah, Jackson. You've gone and set the bar too high! I've got no idea what to get you."

He grins. "You don't have to get me anything."

"Bullshit. It's a trade, and you know it."

"Well, then you better get looking," he laughs. Slipping his arm around her waist, he kisses her hairline, lingering for a moment to press his nose to her curls. "Your shampoo smells nice. Jasmine, right?"

"Yeah. It's the same one I always use."

"I know," he smiles. "I like your hair."

She swats him away, suddenly blushing. "God, stop flirting. You do know you've already got me, right?"

"So? I don't get why I have to stop. If flirting worked in the first place, shouldn't I keep doing it?"

"We both know your charisma isn't why I'm dating you."

"You think I'm charismatic?"

She laughs, covering her face with her hands. "Shut up, shut up, shut up."

"I'm kidding, Annabeth. I've got no idea how I scored you," he admits, "but I'm fucking glad I did."

"Cab's here!" Bobby yells, waving them over. Matthew opens the door, stepping inside.

"C'mon, we'd better stop flirting and go," Percy laughs. She lets him drag her forward, fighting back a smile.

* * *

It's a strange summer, but still a surprisingly nice one. Recently, Percy seems happier. Though Annabeth isn't entirely sure why, she likes to think she might have had a hand in it. She begins to look forward to their last year of high school—though college applications are definitely going to be hell on her anxiety, nothing can be all bad with Percy at her side.

Senior year rolls around, and Annabeth begins to notice a lot of things about Percy. His hands. His smile. The way he laughs when she cracks a questionable joke, the way playfulness sparks in his eyes when they kiss. But most of all, she notices his tiredness. He overexerts himself at work; he always has. She's never said anything to him about it, never asked him to treat himself with the same care and compassion he affords other people. It wouldn't be right for her to comment on how much he works, not when she's always had so much and he so little. It would open the two of them up to arguments that they've never had before—arguments about Percy's steadfast belief that if he's not running himself into the ground, then he can't be working hard enough.

But every day, Annabeth gets closer and closer to breaching the topic. She's beginning to notice the way he winces when he bends down to pick something up, the way he rolls his shoulder to assuage the strain when he thinks no one's looking. These things worry her. If it was up to Percy, he probably wouldn't take a goddamn aspirin to relieve his headaches without Annabeth there to prod him. So, no—she doesn't trust him to make rational decisions when it comes to his own wellbeing. It's easy enough to be there for him, though. To offer him her sweater to use as a pillow so he can sleep during lunchtime, to ask him if he wants to share her sandwich when he forgets his lunch. There was a time when Percy wouldn't have let her do either of those things for him, so she'll take what she can get.

Annabeth has a photography extracurricular after school on Thursdays, and she always uses the time to complete extra projects and expand the portfolio she's building. She's finally letting herself entertain the notion of doing something to do with photography at college just like she always dreamed she would. Sometimes when she's taking photographs, excitement for the future thrums so intensely in her chest that she forgets to breathe. There's fear there, too: fear that she's not good enough, fear that it's stupid of her to think she could base her entire life on a passion she neglected for so long. But as long as the passion is still there, Annabeth will dare to hope.

After photography on Thursday, she has to walk home in the dark with her portfolio case in hand. She spent an extra few hours getting some editing done, and she didn't realise how late it was. Instead of heading home to her estate, though, she texts Percy. _Can I stay at yours? It's dark and I'm kinda scared to walk all the way back to my house alone :/_

A few seconds later, his response lights up her phone. _Sure, I'm just working through a math sheet rn!_

She shoots back a quick _thank you_ and sets off for his apartment, jaw braced against the bitter air. It's nearly October already, and Virginia is deeply feeling the arrival of fall. It's going to be a cold winter this year—Annabeth can tell.

After trudging up the stairs to the floor above the diner, she knocks on Percy's door. When there's no answer, she calls his name. "Percy? I'm here." Again, no answer. She pushes on the handle. To her confusion, it opens. Weird. Percy's normally too paranoid to leave his door unlocked. Inside, the light is on and Percy at his desk. He's half-slumped over his sheet of equations, sound asleep. Annabeth smiles as she closes the door behind her, turning the lock. "Percy?" she repeats, putting a hand on his shoulder. The muscles beneath her palm are wound-up and taut, twisted into knots.

Groaning, he rubs his eyes. "Huh, Annabeth?"

"You shouldn't sleep at your desk, you idiot. It's not good for you."

Yawning, he sits up and stretches. "Didn't…didn't fall asleep on purpose." Squinting down at his equations sheet, he sighs. "God. I need to finish this." Grabbing the sheet and the pen he was using, Annabeth heads over to sit on the bed. "What are you doing?"

She rolls her eyes. "Helping you, obviously. C'mon, sit over here," she adds, patting the space beside her. Bleary-eyed, he does as she asks and sits down beside her with a wince. "You okay?" she asks, concern flickering through her.

Rolling his shoulder, he nods. "Yeah. I've just been stiff lately."

"I can tell," she says. "Is it your back?"

"And my shoulders. My joints, too." He shakes his head. "I'm probably just tired."

"Do you want a massage when we're done?" she asks, cautious.

For a moment, he looks as though he's going to decline. But then he mumbles, "If you think it'll help."

"Okay. I can do that." She watches him, discerning, before tearing her gaze away and back down to the equation sheet. "So, you're on question six?"

They spend an hour working through the questions until they finally finish the sheet. Percy sighs in relief, flopping back onto the bed. "Thanks. Without you, that would've taken me forever."

"Nah, you would've managed it," she smiles. "You've been getting good at math lately."

"Only 'cause I need it to do mechanics," he mutters. "Hey, can I get that massage, now?"

"Sure. I'm gonna need you to sit up," she orders. Guiding him to the edge of the bed, she kneels behind him and places her hands on his shoulders. He exhales as she presses her thumbs into the knots through the fabric of his shirt, trying to release the tension. "How does that feel?" He doesn't respond, and Annabeth can tell he's tensing up even more. She takes her hands away. "Percy, you need to tell me when it hurts."

"I will," he says softly. There's a note of frustration in his voice, as though he wanted to push through. "Can you try again? Please."

Wordlessly, she replaces her hands and massages his shoulders more carefully, applying gentle pressure. Still, Percy only lasts a few seconds before shaking his head and pulling away. Giving up, Annabeth sits down beside him. "Are you sure it's just muscle tension? You haven't injured yourself, have you?"

"No." He sinks down, resting his head on Annabeth's shoulder. She slips an arm around him, holding him close. "I'm probably just working too much."

It's both a relief and scarily disarming that Percy's actually admitted to pushing himself too hard. He must be really hurting. "Maybe you should see a doctor about it."

"No. Nothing's wrong with me."

"Percy—"

"I'll do some stretches, okay?" he negotiates. "And I'll stop taking so many shifts." When Annabeth follows with silence, he adds, "Seriously. You don't need to worry, alright?" He kisses her cheek, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Okay," she murmurs. "You'll tell me, though? If it gets worse?"

"Yeah. 'Course I will." Annabeth isn't convinced, but she's quickly distracted when he cups her cheek and kisses her. "How did photography go today?" he asks. It's a thinly-veiled subject change, but Annabeth can't bring herself to mind.

* * *

Percy keeps his word; though she knows it scares him to do so, he stops taking so many shifts in an effort to relieve the strain on his body. It wouldn't be so bad if his job at the auto shop wasn't so incredibly labour-intensive but as it stands, Percy has to relinquish some control. He agrees to take Friday evenings off. It's not enough, but at least it's something.

Fall turns into winter, and the end of the year quickly approaches. None of the others are available for Christmas, so the two of them spend the day alone together at Annabeth's estate. It's not particularly festive, but it's still beautifully safe and warm. She appreciates the domesticity—they even make mince pies together. Neither of them is particularly good at baking, but they work it out.

For New Year, Piper plans to throw a New Years' party. Tristan's house in Virginia is huge, and can comfortably host parties. She invites dozens upon dozens of students from Mileview, hoping for a good celebration. She's been on the outs with Jason recently, which Annabeth thinks might be feeding into her desire to hold the party. Though she knows it'll be nothing like Luke's parties, it still makes her nervous; she'll be surrounded by inebriated people, and Annabeth's will not to relapse versus the last dredges of her addiction is a fine line. Though alcohol is technically nothing like the drugs she used to do, she's afraid of how easy it might be for her willpower to crumble. Percy, as always, reassures her. "It's going to be fine, okay? I'll be with you." Somehow, that soothes Annabeth's nerves. She trusts him.

They head to Piper's house half an hour after the party begins. Annabeth wears the satin cowl-neck dress she bought a few days ago in town, layering a matching grey cardigan over it to keep herself warm. Percy mostly wears the same beat-up clothes as usual, but he opts for his leather jacket and some newer jeans. When he emerges from his apartment, she teases him, "You clean up nice."

He only rolls his eyes, muttering, "Thanks."

The atmosphere inside Piper's house is bright and exciting. It's already filled with partygoers, talking and moving to the beat of the music. Percy is warm at Annabeth's side, bending occasionally to speak into her ear over the din. Leo and Nico are in the lounge, dancing in tandem with the crowd. "Is it alright if I drink?" Percy asks, picking up one of the bottles of cider stashed on the kitchen counter. Annabeth smiles and nods. He rarely allows himself to let loose—his hang-ups surrounding alcohol are probably behind it. She doesn't know what he believes he'll become if he gets too drunk, only that whatever awful image he's built up is based on false truths. He's never anything worse than overtly affectionate when he drinks, and she wishes he knew that.

The party's fun but it's not long before Annabeth starts to feel claustrophobic, so she asks Percy if they can head outside. There are a lot of people milling around in the garden, but it's far fewer than there are inside. Outdoor lights have been strung up around the garden, casting a soft glow into the darkness. "Percy, Annabeth!" a familiar voice calls from behind them. Annabeth spins to see Piper hurrying to meet them. Jason's standing a few feet behind her with a stormy look on his face, as though they just finished having a disagreement. A cigarette hangs between two of his fingers—he's trying to give up smoking, but he still smokes on nights like these. With a sigh, he walks away. "Thank God you two are here," Piper says, throwing a glance over her shoulder.

"Lover's quarrel?" Percy asks, gesturing in Jason's direction.

She scoffs. "Please. We're done—for good, this time."

"That's what you said last time. And the time before that," Percy mutters.

Elbowing him, Annabeth offers Piper a sympathetic smile. "Is he still trying to make it work?"

Piper shakes her head, a stuttering motion. "Yes. No." She sighs. "Maybe. I don't know what's going on anymore, but I'm done with it."

Percy winces. "He seems upset."

She arches a brow. "And? He should've thought of that before he showed up here."

"What?" Annabeth asks, shocked. "You told him not to come?"

"Not in those words, but…yeah." Piper's gaze drifts in his direction, but she catches herself and tears it away again. "I think we just didn't know how to be friends without things getting physical, and that's not a great basis for a relationship, you know? So I told him to fuck off—for real this time. No coming round to my house a few days later with a _sorry_ and a pretty smile."

Annabeth decides not to comment on how harsh that sounds. She's sure Jason's thrown plenty of the same shit at Piper, too, over the course of their many arguments. "You're gonna let him back in your life, right? C'mon, Pipes. You two are good as friends."

She throws her hands up. "I don't know how to be _friends_ with him."

"You could learn," Percy says softly. "Do you really wanna go into the New Year with so much animosity between you two?"

In that moment, Piper looks unbearably small. She wraps her arms around herself, caging her body in. "You're right. I should talk to him."

"You're allowed to love him and not want to be with him, you know," Annabeth tells her, giving her a half-smile. "Just…tell him that."

"Okay," she murmurs, nodding in resolution as she backs away. "I'll see you guys later."

"Remember, it's ten minutes 'til New Year," Percy calls after her. Then, to Annabeth, "Do you think they're actually finished this time?"

"They'd be better as friends, that's for sure." She leans against him, linking her arm through his. "I'm glad _we're_ not that dramatic."

"We're not?" he asks with a laugh.

She shoulders him, incredulous. "Not yet. Don't push our luck."

"Alright, I won't," he smiles. "Do you wanna kiss when it turns 2011?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't we?"

He shrugs, suddenly bashful. "Thought maybe it's cringey, or something."

She laughs, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Hey, you're not getting out of it that easily."

"I wasn't trying to," he protests. "Just…"

"What?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing." A second later, he tugs at her arm. "I've got an idea. C'mon."

"What? Where are we going?"

"Trust me." He leads her back into Piper's house, weaving through the crowd of Mileview students filling up the garden. She expects him to stop once they're inside, but instead he drags her through the hall and up the staircase.

"Should we really be—?"

He flashes her a mischievous smile. "Up here?" he finishes. "It'll only be for a few minutes, Chase." Pushing aside her doubts, she follows him. He leads them to the top floor of Piper's house. At the end of the hallway, a glass door opens out onto a balcony. Annabeth's been up here dozens of times before, and she knows Piper frequents the spot. He pushes the door open, shivering as he walks out onto the balcony. Annabeth joins him at the railing, feeling a smile slip onto her face as they look out over the garden. The party's flooded outside, and everyone raises their drinks to the sky as they begin the countdown from thirty seconds. Percy adds his voice to the shouts, yelling, "Twenty-eight! Twenty-seven! Twenty-six!"

Annabeth laughs aloud and braces her forearms against the railing, breathing in the atmosphere. She joins in the countdown, feeling catharsis surge through her. Fireworks go off in the sky above them as the last seconds of 2010 draw to a close. Together, the two of them scream, "Happy New Year!"

Annabeth wants to believe their voices echo all the way across Virginia. She turns and loops her arms around Percy's neck, pulling him down to press her lips against his. He smiles into the kiss, then bites at her lip and kisses her ever-harder. His hand slips over the satin-smooth material of her dress to the small of her back before sliding down over her ass, brazen. Annabeth thinks she might be addicted to kissing him—more addicted than she was to the drugs that were once her only lifeline. As they melt into each other, she says suddenly, "God. I think I love you."

His eyes fill with an indiscernible emotion, and for a second she wonders if she said it too soon. But then he whispers, "I love you, too. Fuck," he says, shaking his head, "You make it so easy." She laughs, euphoric, and caresses his cheek with an unsteady palm. Tilting his cheek into her touch, he smiles quietly. For a moment, she can do nothing but gaze at him as though the fucking stars are aligning before her very eyes.

Gently guiding her wrist back down, he presses her against the railing. She shudders as he places a reverent kiss under her jaw, then on her neck, then on the slant of her collarbone. Distant fireworks are exploding in Annabeth's peripheral vision, but her surroundings seem inconsequential in the wake of their confessions. His lips settle back onto hers. Pulling away for a moment, she says, "Let's go back to your place."

"Okay." He pauses, then adds, "I love you. Wow, it's crazy to say it out loud."

She laughs, taking his hand. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah," he says with a smile, threading his fingers a little tighter through hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, let me know what you thought! if you want, you can drop me an ask about this fic over on [my tumblr](https://stolen-arts.tumblr.com) :D


	32. an unstoppable force

As Percy anticipated, senior year continues to be hell. Still, there's some good things that come along with it: Piper and Jason start talking to each other again without the pressure of a romantic relationship, he gets to know his mom a little better—though he hasn't yet told any of his friends about her—and Lucy starts teaching him to drive after his shifts. She says it's the least she can do for Percy after he gave so much time to the machine shop, but he thinks it might be more than that. Sometimes, her eyes spark with protectiveness—it's possible that she's just looking out for him.

Percy's a natural driver and within a month, he gets his license. He doesn't yet have a car of his own, but he's working on fixing up a wrecked, ancient Pontiac. The owner gave up on paying its expenses and dumped it at Lucy's, clearly intending for it to be taken to the dump yard—but when Percy's done with it, hopefully it'll sail as smoothly as when it was made. It's something of a passion project; he's pouring everything he has into fixing it. Lucy says if he manages to get it in working condition, it's his.

Recently, he's been worried about Annabeth. Though she rarely shows it, it's clear that senior year is taking a toll on her. In the midst of studying and getting her photography portfolio together, she's tired and anxious all the time. Most nights, she'll stumble back to Percy's apartment after a long day just to pass out in his bed. He doesn't mind; Annabeth needs all the rest she can get. She always sleeps better at his place, anyway.

But every day in his peripheral vision, Percy can see her struggling more and more. He tries his best to give her a helping hand when she needs it and offer a shoulder for her to lean on, but he doesn't know if it's enough. Everything in her life seems to be overpowering her.

On Friday, Annabeth is anxious the entire day. Percy notices her talking to Luke for a few minutes by her locker. He lets them talk—the last thing he wants to take away from Annabeth is her autonomy. But when he asks her about it, she just shakes her head and diverts their conversation to safer territory.

Percy never works on Fridays anymore, so he usually hangs out with Annabeth and the others for the evening. But when he heads to the diner to meet Jason, Leo, Nico and Piper, she's a no-show. While Piper talks about the new song she's been writing, Percy's utterly distracted. He can't stop drumming his blunt nails on the table of their booth, glancing up at the ticking Art Deco clock hanging on the wall of _The Winehouse_. It's getting late. Suddenly, someone's clicking their fingers in front of his face. "Jackson. Earth to Jackson, you there?" Piper repeats.

Zoning back into reality, he blinks. "What?"

She rolls her eyes. "You've barely said a word all evening. Leo's been drinking your milkshake without you even noticing. Are you good?"

"Yeah—yeah, sorry. I'm guess I'm worried about Annabeth. She said she'd be here."

"Don't worry," Leo placates. "She's probably just caught up in whatever photography project she's working on. Why don't you text her?"

"I have," he murmurs, reaching into his pocket to check it for the thousandth time. Still no sign of her. Letting out a sigh, he switches it off again. "I'm sure she's fine." He grabs the straw of his dwindling milkshake, sorrowfully slurping up the chocolate.

Piper rolls her eyes. "Anyway, I was thinking about recording some of my older tracks. I met this girl in town the other day. We got to talking, and guess what? She writes songs, too! And she's got a ton of recording equipment in her garage."

"Cool," Jason smiles. "So, you're gonna work on some stuff together?" There's barely a trace of bitterness in his voice, and Percy has to admire the fact that he doesn't resent Piper for continuing to make music with other people after they did it together for so many years. He suspects this probably feels like closure for them both.

Piper nods, grinning. "Yep. I can't wait! I listened to some of her old tracks, and they're all fucking genius."

"What's her name?" Percy asks.

"Shel," she informs him. "She used to live on the Oklahoma reservation, but her family moved out here recently because her mom got a new job."

"Oh, cool." As she continues the conversation, Percy's gaze drifts back to the ticking clock.

Annabeth never turns up, or even responds to Percy's texts. It's around eleven when he says goodbye to the others and heads up the steps to his apartment. He rolls his shoulder in an attempt to assuage the continual ache of his joints as he fits the key in the lock, pushing the door open. He half-hopes that Annabeth will be waiting for him, but of course she's not. She's probably at the estate, hyper-focusing on her photography work.

Deciding he won't be able to sleep, he grabs the unfinished equations sheet that's due on Monday and sits at his desk, chewing on his pencil's eraser. This topic isn't too difficult, and he slips into the questions with mindless efficiency. His apartment window is half-open, and the low thrum of passing cars outside devolves into static background noise. Time slips away from Percy and by the time he's done with the last question on the sheet, it's turned midnight. Checking his phone one last time for any texts from Annabeth, he stands up and stretches, feeling the stiff muscles in his shoulders crack with the movement. He's got an early shift in the morning. If there aren't too many jobs, maybe he can get some work done on the Pontiac.

After brushing his teeth and changing into a comfortable T-shirt and boxers, he tunes out his worries about Annabeth and slips into bed. He falls asleep quickly, too exhausted to fear the nightmares before they inevitably come.

* * *

Percy calls Annabeth on the way to his early shift, cycling along with his earphones in. She picks up on the fifth ring. "Hey," he greets her, speaking into the dangling mic as he cuts across an intersection.

"Hi, Percy." She sounds woozy, as though she just woke up. "Why'd you call?"

"Just checking up on you. You didn't show at the diner yesterday."

"God, I'm so sorry. I completely forgot," she groans. "I got so sucked into editing photos—"

"No, hey. It's fine. I'm glad you got some work done. Did you get much sleep last night?"

"A little," she says. Percy can hear tiredness seeping into her tone. "Are you heading to your shift?"

"Yeah."

She pauses. "Call me after?"

"Sure," he responds, slowing down as he bumps up onto the sidewalk by the machine shop. "I gotta go. Bye."

"Bye. I love you."

"Love you too," he smiles. The call cuts off as he heads into the machine shop, rolling up his sleeves. Lucy's standing in the yard with her arms folded, surveying his half-deconstructed Pontiac. "Hi," he calls.

"Percy!" She turns around, jabbing a thumb back at the car. "You're doing a great job on this old thing, I'll say. I figured it was a lost cause."

"Thanks," he grins. "But don't get your hopes up. There are still a million things wrong with the engine. Plus, I've got no idea how she'll run when I take her on the road."

Lucy shrugs, a teasing spark in her eye. "Have some faith, Percy. You better work on it in your own time, though—I'm gonna need you to do some oil changes and then assess that Honda, okay? I know Jim was working on it, but he's not here today."

"Sure thing, boss." Heading into the shop to grab his tools, he settles in for a long day.

* * *

Over the week that follows, Annabeth seems even more off than usual. She speaks less than usual, and seems unable to hold anyone's gaze for too long. Percy tries asking her what's wrong, but she shrugs him off all too easily. Usually, _he's_ the one who closes up like this, and it's strange to be on the opposite end of it. He has no idea how to reach her, or even how to let her know that she can talk to him about whatever's bothering her. Over the weekend, she was uncharacteristically absent—she didn't even stay over at Percy's apartment for the weekend like she usually does. Though he tries not to worry about her too much, thoughts of Annabeth occupy too much of his headspace to ever push her completely out of mind.

He uses the broken Pontiac as a welcome distraction. After his shifts at the machine shop, he'll pour an extra hour or two into working on it, puzzling out its issues with a scouring eye and fixing its old parts. On Wednesday evening, he makes a breakthrough. Sliding into the driver's seat, he warily turns on the ignition. A heartbeat later, the engine rumbles to life beneath him. "Yes!" he shouts, pumping his fist with elation. Some things will need testing before it's road-safe, but a working engine is a damn good sign.

"You gonna give it a trial run?" Lucy asks, popping her head through the car's open window.

"Fuck yeah!" he grins. "Can I drive it around the courtyard?"

"Sure, Percy. Just—please try not to knock anything over."

"I won't," he reassures her. Turning the key, he coaxes the engine to life. Pressing down the clutch, he moves into first gear and eases a foot onto the accelerator. When the Pontiac smoothly responds, he whoops and puts on a little speed. Lucy watches with a smile on her face as he drives in circles around the machine shop's courtyard. The Pontiac's wheel fits under his palms like something borne of second nature, and hope burns in his fingertips as he parks it again. Stumbling out, he shakes his head. "I can't believe it actually drives."

"You'll have to take it for a road-safety inspection before you can take it on the road. Once you've done that, it's yours," she says. "Don't crash it, hmm?"

"You don't need to worry about that," he laughs. "Thanks, Lucy."

The next day after school, he takes the Pontiac for an inspection. When it comes up clear, he feels victorious. It feels like this is the first thing that he's really, truly _owned_ , and that simple fact gives him a heady sense of confirmation. The insurance will cost him, but he's saved up enough to keep it for a few years at least. He can't wait to show Annabeth the car; he hasn't yet mentioned it to her, worried that voicing its existence might somehow doom the project. But now that it's fixed, now that he can finally drive it…She'll love it as much as he does. He knows she will.

Annabeth's busy on Friday, so he uses his free afternoon to hang out at the skate park with Leo, Jason and Nico. They spend hours on the ramps. The wind is intense and blustering, chapping their skin; the last dredges of a minor storm is blowing over. When he heads back to his apartment in the dwindling daylight, there's been a power cut throughout the building. He curses, rummaging in the cupboards for the candles his landlord left him in case this exact situation. It's dark outside his window by the time he's laid the candles out and lit each wick with a match, casting an eerie glow into the crevices of his room.

He's woken up in the middle of the night by someone knocking incessantly on his door. He's gripped by fear for several interminable seconds, wrenched from a bad dream. But then he notices that his phone screen is lit up with notifications where it lays on his bedside table—all of them from Annabeth. He scrambles out of bed and walks barefoot to the door, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Opening the door, he asks, "Annabeth?"

She's standing outside his door, drenched with rainwater and shivering. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." With a shock, he realises that she's not just shivering—her hands are shaking, and her pupils are blown wide.

"God," he mutters, tugging her forward to wrap his arms around her. "You look freezing. Are you okay?"

She buries her head in his shoulder. "No. Jesus, I hate this. I hate this so much."

"It's okay. It's okay." He closes the door and sits her down on his bed, grabbing a clean towel so she can dry off. She's clearly still under the influence of whatever she's taken, but at least she seems to be coming down from it. "What happened? It's been months since you—I thought…" His voice trembles.

Annabeth covers her face with her hands. "I don't know. But it hasn't been months. Last Friday, when I didn't show up to the diner—" She cuts herself off, either unable to speak or simply too afraid. "I fucked up. I was getting _better_. Now I've thrown all that effort into the goddamn trash." Her hands fall away from her face. "I should never have let Luke get a word in edgeways."

Percy feels shaken, but he forces himself not to fall apart. "You haven't thrown anything into the trash, alright. You fucked up? Whatever. It doesn't matter."

"You don't mean that," she shoots back. The towel's slipping down her shoulders, so he reaches up and wraps it more tightly around the damp fabric of her shirt. She mumbles, "You probably hate me for this."

"Well, I don't! How could you even think that?" Her pupils are still blown, but her jaw's stopped shuddering. She's coming down. "I don't hate you," he continues. "And you shouldn't hate yourself, okay? You've been anxious for weeks. I should've done something. I should've—"

"Stop."

"No. This was my fault."

" _Stop_ ," she breathes. He does. "It's not your fault. Don't say that."

"Okay. I won't."

"I'm sorry. To you. To myself." Then, quieter: "Hold me?"

In response, he slips his arms around her and rests his head on her shoulder, not even minding the dampness of her soaked hair. He can hear the rain outside, drumming on the roof and windowpane. The storm hasn't yet passed, it seems. "You're okay," he whispers. "You're okay."

It takes an hour for Annabeth to sober up. As she changes into dry, comfortable clothes, she explains what happened in more detail. After weeks of feeling run down and without escape, she felt like turning back to her old, shitty coping mechanisms was the only escape. "I didn't want to say anything to you," she murmurs. "You thought I was better, and to admit to you that I wasn't…" She trails off. They're lying atop the covers on Percy's bed, watching rain trickle down the window outside. Her hair's dried into soft, fluffy curls and Percy can't stop playing with the stray ringlet resting on her brow. "I couldn't do it. They're not even…"

"What?" he asks, brow furrowing. "Not even what?"

Throwing her arm over her face, she sighs. "Don't worry. It's stupid."

He takes her wrist and gently guides it down, meeting her eyes. Candlelight ripples over her features, casting ripples of fire across her warm skin. "It's not stupid. Tell me, please?"

She heaves a sigh. "Most of the drugs I used to do—the MD, the ket—weren't even physically addictive. Apart from my anxiety meds, I guess."

"So?"

" _So_ , it's all in my head, okay? Even though my body doesn't need the drugs, some part of me thinks I can't cope without them. It's unstoppable."

"Annabeth," he says softly. "Just because it's in your head doesn't mean it can't affect you. It's psychological—addiction can be psychological. You're doing so well, alright? You're doing so fucking well." He kisses her gently on the brow. "Wanna try and sleep? It's nearly three in the morning."

"I don't think I'll be able to," she admits. "My brain's completely wired—I'm on a comedown."

"Okay." He pauses, a slow smile tugging at his mouth. Glancing outside, he notices that the ceaseless rain has lessened, turning into drizzle. "I've got a surprise. You wanna see it?"

"A surprise?" she wonders. Standing up, he pulls his shoes on and starts doing up the laces. "We're going outside? You're kidding."

Ignoring her, he asks, "Can you grab my jacket?" His car key is in its pocket, but she doesn't need to know that yet.

Rolling her eyes, she grabs his leather jacket from where it's been discarded on his desk and throws it to him. After stepping into her shoes, she pulls on one of Percy's hoodies. The pleased sigh she lets out when she pulls it on doesn't escape his notice, and it's enough to bring a flush to his cheeks. "Let's see this surprise, then," she says, business-like.

The rain has stopped by the time they step outside into the night, but the air is cold enough to raise goosebumps on Percy's skin. "I've been working on something," he tells her. "For the past few weeks." The Pontiac is parked in the residential space, and he pulls its key out of his pocket as they approach. Annabeth's gaze locks onto the key, and it dawns on her. He continues, "I got my driver's license, remember?"

Her eyes widen as she briefly stares at the Pontiac, then at him. "Oh, my God. You fixed up a car? That's incredible." Grinning, she hugs him. "Sometimes I forget how smart you are."

He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly awkward. "Yeah, well. I thought we could take it for a spin."

Excitement is evident on Annabeth's face as climbs into the shotgun seat. "Wow," she breathes. Percy closes the door on the driver's side, fitting the key into the ignition. Running her fingers over the ancient radio, she exhales. "This is such a beautiful car."

He smile. "It's really old. I like it. Feels mysterious, or something." As he turns the key, the engine rumbles to life below them. "So. Where do you wanna go?"

She smiles, clicking her seatbelt into place. "Anywhere."

They drive aimlessly for an hour or so, talking and laughing and singing along to the radio. Car headlights and traffic lights reflect off Annabeth's smiling face in hues of red, amber and blazing green. Percy thinks he's been waiting his whole life to drive a car of his own, and it's somehow even better with her beside him.

Tired of driving, he eventually pulls over onto the side of the road. Annabeth slings a leg over his lap, grinning as she cradles his jaw and kisses him thoroughly. "I liked watching you drive," she tells him. In response, Percy tilts his head up and kisses her a little harder. They stay that way for a while, committing to memory the feel of cold hands roaming warm skin. As the night wanes on, he thinks Annabeth might have forgotten the pain she was in—if only for a short time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! this chapter was a lot of fun to write, so let me know what you thought! if you like, you can shoot me an ask about this fic on [my tumblr](https://stolen-arts.tumblr.com).


	33. an immovable object

It's currently spring in Virginia, and the days are long and beautifully warm. It's Annabeth's favourite time of year—the heat isn't yet oppressive, and the country's yellow-ochre fields are slightly greener after receiving some rain and gentle sunlight. Even their town seems to be in better spirits.

She's sitting with Percy outside a cafe near the centre, feeling cautiously content. _He_ looks content, anyway. Tired, maybe, but he always looks tired. With the sun on his face and both hands curled around his coffee cup, he looks stupidly radiant. Annabeth can't help but smile at him, taking a sip of her chai latte. She likes it here, surrounded by bustling people and the quintessence of everyday life. Both of them are people-watchers, and Percy's gaze has snagged on a harried mom trying to calm down her wailing toddler. "Makes you wonder why people bother having kids, huh?" he mutters. Still, he looks endeared when the mom lifts her daughter up onto her hip to soothe her.

Annabeth reaches for her fork, digging into the chocolate cake they're sharing. "Mm, this is good," she says, words muffled around a mouthful. "I love chocolate." It's been a few weeks since Annabeth's relapse, and she's feeling a lot more positive. She hasn't taken anything since, mostly in fear of letting Percy down—but also in fear of letting _herself_ down. Focusing on the way the chocolate cake melts in her mouth, she closes her eyes and lets the day's bright sunlight warm her lids. When she opens them again, Percy is watching her. There's a conflicted look on his face. He's had that look a lot recently.

Annabeth wishes she knew what's behind it. If there even is anything behind it. "What?" she asks.

For a moment, she thinks he's going to dismiss it. But then he says, "I've been meaning to tell you something."

"You have?"

He puts his fork down, like he's trying to work up the nerve. "I don't know why I haven't said anything yet. 'Cause I've been scared, maybe. I've been sitting on this for a while."

An irrational cold washes into the pit of Annabeth's stomach. "Is it good or bad?"

"Good," he reassures her. "It's just…kind of huge. I've been putting off telling you because I haven't really worked out what I think of it myself."

"Okay," she says slowly. "What is it?"

"Last year, one of my social workers told me they dug up something from my past. Some _one_ from my past."

"Who?"

He pauses, looking down. "My mom." Annabeth's mouth falls open, but Percy's already continuing. "She's been in prison for a long time. When I was a baby, she was charged by Gabe for attempted murder."

"Oh," she breathes.

"Yeah. My social worker said there's reason to believe she attacked him in self-defence, especially considering…you know." He sighs. "I've been visiting her for months. Sorry for not telling you, I just…"

She takes his hand. "No, no. I get it. God, Percy. Your mom? She's been in prison all this time?"

"It's shit, I know—but she's getting out at the end of the year. She's a good person, okay? She's kind. She always asks about you."

It's hard not to be sceptical of someone who's spent so much time incarcerated, but there's such a look of wonder and hope in Percy's eyes that Annabeth decides not to voice her internal conflict. "What's her name?"

"Sally. She's not really all there, but I think she'll come back to herself once she's out of that place."

"Do you want her in your life?" Annabeth asks tentatively.

"Of course! She's been rotting in that place—she deserves someone to help her back onto her feet when her sentence ends. And before you ask, I _am_ being cautious," he tells her. "But she's done nothing but prove to me that she's worthy of a chance."

She smiles. She's never seen Percy this passionate about anything. "Can I meet her? Am I allowed to?" Though she knows it's far from the same thing as their visits to Helen, she still dares to hope.

"I think so. I'll call her, ask if it's alright for you to come with me next time I visit her during open hours."

Excitement flickers to life in Annabeth's chest. She tries to swallow it back, knowing nothing's set in stone. Since Helen hasn't been around, both of them have felt her absence like a lung. _This will be good for him._ "Only if she wants to meet me, okay? She doesn't have to."

"Are you kidding?" he grins. "Every time I see her, she asks when I'm bringing you."

Annabeth shifts in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable with Sally's expectations. "I could be awful! She doesn't even know me."

"Maybe not," he admits. "But she will. In time."

* * *

As senior year builds up into a crescendo of studying, extra-credit projects and overwhelming stress, Annabeth becomes determined to hold herself together. Exams loom on the horizon, a culmination of the years she's spent at Mileview. To keep on top of her anxiety, she changes from Dr Hale to a different therapist. His shitty methods were part of the reason her life careened towards disaster during the year she spent with Luke—Annabeth can see that now. Mariam, her new therapist, was horrified when she reviewed Annabeth's medical records. "Prescribing Xanax like he did is old-fashioned and complete bullshit," she told her with vehemence. "We're going to tackle this safely." At the very least, Annabeth can appreciate her potty mouth.

Getting in enough hours of study each week leading up to finals is a fresh kind of torture, but it's nice to know that she and her friends are all in this together. She pours the most time into her photography final, compiling and editing dozens of images. The main piece she's been working on is a photo sequence featuring Percy called _Inconsolable_. They did the shoot in the shallows of a lake, and it took her hours to get the shots she wanted. Percy's clothes were drenched through by the time they finished, but it was worth it—her favourite photo is one she took during Virginia's golden hour, where Percy is kneeling in the water with his head bowed, hands cold and pale in the glistening water. Warm light pours in from behind him, a startling contrast against the vacant shadows of his face. His shoulders and limbs are slumped, making him look for all the world like he's lost in mourning.

It's probably the best composition Annabeth's ever come up with. Miss Louis, her photography instructor, persuades her to put the whole sequence in for a competition. Albeit reluctantly, Annabeth does. It's hard to believe that her recent work is good enough to win anything, especially after taking such a long break from photography. But maybe it doesn't hurt to try.

When their final exams roll around at last, Annabeth convinces Percy to take some time off work. Percy's usually completely averse to dropping any shifts—he's too used to having to scrounge for grocery money—but this time, she refuses to back down. "You're not going to be able to focus on studying if you're exhausted from work half the time," she tells him. "Please. You won't get the scores you need to take on an apprenticeship if you don't give yourself time to rest. You're not superhuman, okay?"

At first he looks like he's going to argue, but gives in after a moment of battling back and forth with himself. He exhales, nodding. "Okay. You're right."

As they plunge into exams with fervour, Annabeth can't shake the feeling that everything she's watched her friends hope for over the last seven years is finally coming to a conclusion—one way or another. Piper's taking a gap year with Shel to perform their music at gigs and build on the base of listeners they've already garnered, something she's been working towards for years. Jason's also trying to make something out of himself in the music industry; he's applied to take a course in production at California Institute of the Arts. Leo's doing engineering, obviously—he's got the most math-oriented brain out of anyone she knows.

Annabeth was stuck on what she wanted to do for a while. She thinks choosing photography was inevitable, though—is it possible to have a passion that utterly consumes you and not ultimately decide to build your life around it? Maybe for some, but Annabeth can't ignore it. She researches fashion photography, travel photography, even portraiture. Eventually, she realises all she wants to do is learn more. To improve. Maybe then, she'll figure out what she's best at. She applies to several art colleges, hoping for either California or New York's School of Visual Arts. Percy shares her excitement; his passion for watching her take photographs almost rivals her own passion for actually taking them. "Maybe I just want to see you happy," he tells her playfully when she asks him about it. "Ever think of that?"

She already knew that was the reason. But for some reason, it warms her to the fingertips to hear him say it.

Somehow, Annabeth makes it through exams intact. Mariam's sessions help a lot—although she hasn't gotten around to talking about her dad or the drugs yet, she helps Annabeth learn how to stop catastrophizing. After a few weeks of CBT, she feels more equipped to prevent her self-sabotaging thoughts from running rampant.

As the last bell of high school rings, Annabeth runs across the hallway to throw her arms around Percy, unable to process the fact that it's all over. "We did it," she says breathlessly, head whirling. He's unable to do anything but hug her, shaking his head in disbelief.

As May comes to a close, Mileview holds their high school graduation. In their black graduation robes, it feels surreal to prepare to move on from high school along with the rest of their classmates. Annabeth shouts louder than anyone when she throws her cap into the air, revelling in the catharsis. Beside her, Percy whoops as he catches his again. Piper looks over at her from where she's standing beside Leo and flashes Annabeth an excited, emotional smile. She remembers when it was just the two of them back in elementary school, before they met Leo or any of the others. As she looks around at each of her smiling friends, Annabeth is overcome with a wave of affection.

The five of them crowd together for a photo, leaning over the bleachers. Jason's got Silly String all over his cap and robes—but instead of brushing it off, he wears it with pride. "Dude, you look ridiculous," Leo tells him.

He rolls his eyes. "And?"

Thalia laughs, raising her phone to snap a few pictures. In the sunlight, Percy looks somehow holy. Annabeth clutches her diploma to her chest, holding the weight of everything she's sacrificed. Somehow wildly happy, she hopes this moment never ends. "Don't you just feel so old?" Piper says into her ear, fighting to be heard over the hubbub of two hundred seniors graduating.

"Yeah," she responds, mirroring Piper's smile. "Isn't it amazing?"

* * *

The beginning of summer is a fever dream. Though Annabeth is still waiting to hear back from her colleges, she feels like a burden's been lifted off her shoulders. Percy seems happier, too. Although his body is still sore from overworking and he refuses to see a doctor about it, he seems to have taken Annabeth's advice and has cut himself some slack. The two of them spend hours driving around in the Pontiac, enjoying the sun and each other's company. It feels nice not to have to worry about anything—at least for a little while.

For the first time, Annabeth visits Sally. When they approach the prison, Annabeth is terrified. "What if she doesn't like me? What if—"

"Chill," Percy instructs her, slipping his arm through hers for support. "She's going to love you. Besides, this isn't exactly a normal meet-the-parents, is it?"

Sally isn't anything like Annabeth was expecting. Though she seems run-down by virtue of being locked up for so long, her eyes are kind and she greets Annabeth with a smile. "So, this is the girl I've been hearing so much about."

Instantly, Annabeth relaxes. "And you're Percy's mom! It's so good to finally meet you."

Sally asks Annabeth all sorts of things about her son—what it was like growing up with him, how they started dating—but seems intrigued to find out about _her,_ too. Annabeth tells her about the plans she's made to do photography at college, see if she can build a career out of it. Percy doesn't interject much, only listens to the two of them talk with a quiet smile. She can hardly believe that this beautiful, kind-hearted woman married someone as awful as Gabe. Annabeth's blood silently boils for what he did to her; seventeen years of her life have been stolen from beneath her fingertips, swept away like crumbling ruins into his vengeful tide.

As June wears on, Piper and Shel take to their music with vigour. They start playing gigs around Virginia, getting their songs noticed and selling their stage personas. Annabeth's always thought Piper would be a natural at performing, but it's bizarre to see the dream come to life. Their band name is enchanting, too: _The Winnowers._ Even if Piper's career doesn't take off immediately, at least she's got her foot in the door.

Tonight, they're performing in a bar in the town over—a hot spot for live music. Piper's been excited about it all week, and has been rehearsing with Shel in her garage for dozens of hours straight. Annabeth can't wait to watch them perform—she hasn't yet been to one of their gigs. Percy, Jason and Leo are coming, too.

Annabeth gets ready for the gig in Percy's apartment, finishing her makeup while Percy showers off the sweat from his shift. Holding a compact mirror up to her eyes, she carefully draws on winged eyeliner with a dark, shimmering gel. Satisfied, she caps the liner pen and picks up a tube of mascara. She hears the shower turn off. A few minutes later, Percy emerges with his hair still damp in some nice clothes. "Ready to go?"

"Almost done," she murmurs, blinking down onto the mascara brush to gently coat her lashes. Vaguely aware of Percy watching her, she can't fight off a smile. "Do you mind?"

"Sorry," he laughs, bending to grab his shoes. "You're cute when you're concentrating." As she moves onto the other eye, he opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again.

"What?" she asks, glancing at him.

He shakes his head, then sighs. "Just…there's going to be a lot of people doing shit at the place Piper's playing. I know you're doing better, but we can stay home if you think it might be too much." Annabeth has to squash the instinct to lash back at him. Though she doesn't like talking about it, she knows what he means. Being around so many people doing the same drugs she used to do is going to be overwhelming—maybe even dangerous.

Still, Annabeth's willpower has gotten stronger; she's not the same person she was a few months ago. She knows what she expects from herself, and it isn't to fall back into bad habits. "I get why you're worried, alright? But you don't need to be. Seriously." Putting her mirror down, she offers him a reassuring smile. "Everything's going to work out. We'll be together, won't we?"

"Yeah. Still, Annabeth—"

"Hey." She stands up, lifting her hand to his cheek. "It's going to be fine. We're gonna go watch Piper perform, have a great night, then come back here and order Thai food. Okay?"

"Okay," he says quietly. When he kisses her, there's a note of reassurance. Letting out an unsteady breath, he manages a smile. "You're right. I'm being stupid."

"No. You're good," she tells him.

He smiles for real then. "Ready to go, then?"

They pick up Jason, Leo and Nico in the Pontiac. Radio blaring, the five of them drive into the next town. Eventually, they screech to a stop outside a stone-walled warehouse. Annabeth can faintly hear EDM music playing from below it. "This is gonna be sick," Leo whoops. Nico and Jason echo their agreement, and they head to the club. As per Piper's instructions, they head into the alleyway at a side-door. A bouncer's standing at the door, but he doesn't ask them for ID.

Percy heads inside first, visibly excited. Feeling a rush, Annabeth follows him. As they head down the steps, Annabeth's vision becomes tinted neon in the hued light. The club is cavernous, filled with a mass of dancing, intoxicated bodies. Its stage is currently vacant, but a glance at the time on her phone tells her that Piper and Shel will be on in fifteen minutes. It's loud in here, but Annabeth breathes through her spiking anxiety and nudges Percy. "Wanna go sit at the bar?"

He grins. The others have already disappeared into the crowd. "Sure. I'll buy you a drink."

They chat at the bar for a while as they work on their ciders, heads bent close to hear each other over the hubbub. Percy's knee is warm where it's pressed against her own. "Piper and Shel will be on any minute," he says. "You think people are gonna like their songs?"

Annabeth looks out into the expectant crowd and nods. "Honestly, I think most of the crowd is here for them. One of their tracks blew up on SoundCloud a few days ago." Percy takes a sip of his cider, gaze bright as he watches the stage. Suddenly, the EDM music playing cuts off and the lights go low. As a singular entity, the crowd whoops. Annabeth pats Percy's arm excitedly. "Oh my God, Piper's coming on!"

"Calm down," he laughs, but he's grinning too.

Over the speakers, a voice announces, " _Please welcome…The Winnowers!_ " Two figures emerge from backstage, silhouetted in shadow as they step up to their mics. Annabeth cheers as the lights go up again, revealing Piper and Shel in shimmering suits. Piper delivers a swinging, vicious strum on her electric guitar. Within an instant, Annabeth recognises the chords of their first hit song. Thrown into action by a captivating introduction, Shel curls her fingers around the mic and starts singing.

The song is break-neck, strange and holy. As the chorus rolls around, Piper leans into her mic. Her voice is low and richly sarcastic. " _Thought I'd like you better. Well, wasn't I dead wrong?_ _God, the taste of this lipstick—baby, where'd you get it from?_ " Shel backs her up with her own husky vocals, reverent gaze lingering on Piper. Annabeth can't fight off a smile—she suspected, but wasn't certain until now. Piper has a penchant for making music with people who love her a little too much.

Eventually, the song they're playing ends and melts into a new one. Annabeth finishes her cider and gets down from her stool. She tilts her head. "Wanna get closer to the stage?"

"Are you sure? It looks packed." She hears the hidden message: _Will you be okay?_

She rolls her eyes, taking his hand and tugging him. "Come on, Jackson." Together, they head into the crowd. As Piper begins one of their slower folk songs, Percy slips an arm around Annabeth and presses a kiss to her temple as they listen. She exhales. Leaning into him, it's easy enough to let him bear the brunt of the shifting crowd. He's immovable: an anchor, keeping them both upright amidst the burgeoning waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in love with piper mclean tbh :') thanks for reading, I'd love to hear your thoughts! sorry about missing sunday's update—I did announce it on [my tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/stolen-arts).
> 
> EDIT: Today's chapter will be posted tomorrow instead. Something's come up and I need a little more time to get it finished <3


	34. not to survive, but to live

As summer bleeds on, Percy begins to allow himself to look towards the future. Somehow, it seems like all his friends know what they're going to do with themselves for the rest of their goddamn lives. They seem ready to leave Virginia, to leave the only home they've ever known. And Percy's always wanted to get out of this place more than all of them combined; up until the last year, his youth was characterised by the potent desire to get the hell out of this dust-ridden town and escape the painful memories associated with it. But the need to leave was borne out of a desire to _survive,_ rather than a desire to live. And at long last, he's finally starting to live—so he's no longer sure if he wants to leave.

The uncertainty is paralysing. He won't be with the others anymore. He might not even be with _Annabeth_ anymore, though they've managed to avoid talking about that on the basis of fear. Maybe their affection is built for long distance; maybe it's not. The foundation of this life he's built for himself has begun to crumble, and Percy has no idea if he should try to keep it standing or let it fall.

He's been tentatively searching for an apprenticeship. At first, he hoped to sign on somewhere as a mechanic, but the more thought he gives it, the more an apprenticeship seems like something he could do. He has the experience, for sure. And after pouring a lot of work into his exam results, he came up with a respectable grade in math. The only thing stopping him is his own hesitation, and he decides it would be stupid to allow that to hold him back any longer.

Still, he supposes that isn't the only thing holding him back. Even though he's been taking it easier at work, his joints aren't any better. Neither is the fatigue. He wishes he knew why his body's being like this, but it's not as simple as replacing a car part or rewiring a circuit. Bodies are complicated. And this doesn't feel superficial; it feels integral.

Recently, the horrifying idea that the pain might be a remnant of his time in the trailer has been nagging at him. It reminds him of the time he spent in the hospital with several broken bones and that godawful concussion. The hearing in his left ear became temporarily flimsy, and he was filled with fear every time it faded in and out. When his concussion healed, so did his hearing. But now, whenever Percy has to ask Annabeth to massage out the invisible knots in his aching shoulders, he wonders if his stepfather really did come up with the winning hand.

One warm Tuesday, Annabeth receives a response from CalArts. They're standing on the cracked sidewalk outside _The Winehouse_ when she tears opens the letter with vigour. After a moment, her face falls. Percy's heart thuds into his stomach. He's already reaching out when she whispers, "This isn't fair."

Gently removing the letter from her shaking grip, he pulls her into a hug. "It's okay. You've still got three more colleges to hear back from. They're the ones missing out, alright? Not you."

She nods, but Percy can tell she isn't convinced. He knows how much going to such a good college would've meant to her. "I still might get into SVA," she says, as though she's reassuring herself.

Living in New York would probably be a dream for her, even if SVA isn't as esteemed. "Exactly. So you don't need to worry, okay?" She nods in response, managing a quiet smile.

A few days later, she receives an email from the photography competition she applied to during finals. _Second place_. She didn't win the cash prize, but Percy knows she doesn't care about that. Her work's going to be featured in a magazine, seen by people all across the country. He doesn't quite know what to think of the idea of his own face pasted in a photography collection, but he supposes he'd better get used to it.

Then, at the end of the week, she finally hears back from SVA. Her face is pale as she opens the letter, but she needn't have worried. "I got in!" she practically screams, launching herself into Percy's arms.

"I knew you would," he laughs, squeezing her tight. He's not lying; there was no chance in hell of them turning Annabeth away. But despite his joy, fear begins to settle over him. _New York._ How can he possibly hope to follow her all that way?

Percy resolves to try, at least. He doubles down on his search for an apprenticeship, this time focusing his efforts on New York. Most of the apprenticeships there are for engineering, not mechanics, but...He'll have to be good enough. As he works through the applications, he doesn't tell Annabeth what he's doing; he doesn't want her to know yet. It's unlikely he'll land one, and it would be awful to raise her expectations only to destroy them again.

* * *

Annabeth takes the train to visit Bobby and Matthew for a few days. Percy's glad they'll have some time to catch up; he knows there's been bad blood between them ever since she got her partial emancipation. A summer storm passes over Virginia as June fades into July. Percy's come to hate the rain; though bad weather can be a nice respite from Virginia's ever-consuming heat, there's something about the change in pressure that causes his joints and sinews to ache even more. Though he's grown accustomed to the pain over the past year or so, he's beginning to reach the end of his patience. Time has done nothing to lessen it—if anything, his body hurts more. The fatigue's gotten worse, too. Percy can't shake the feeling that something must be wrong.

Against every instinct he's ever known, he books a doctor's appointment. He has health insurance now; it was the first thing his social workers demanded he should budget when he was emancipated, but he's been loath to use it. Though he knows in theory that he doesn't have to grit his teeth through new discomforts anymore, his subconscious hasn't quite registered that truth.

Annabeth's still busy with her brothers, so he drives to the doctor's office alone. He's caught in the rain during the run from the Pontiac to the building, and cold drops of water drip from his hair down his neck by the time he finally steps through the door. Nervousness thrums in his fingertips as he signs his name on the sheet the receptionist offers him. After only a few minutes of sitting and waiting, his name is called.

The doctor starts by asking Percy what's troubling him. It's an effort not to shrink into himself as he describes the continual ache in his joints that's been present for months and the tiredness that often threatens to send him to sleep. She takes notes—the scratch-scratch of her pen against paper is almost jarring. "Any other symptoms?" she asks.

 _Symptoms._ Percy's never thought of them like that. "No."

"And this has been going on for a year?"

"Maybe longer. It took a while for me to notice."

"You really should've come for an appointment sooner," she chides him. Standing up, she snaps on a pair of latex gloves. "I'm going to check for tender points on your neck, shoulders and elbows. That alright?" He nods in response. Stepping behind his chair, she places a thumb on the back of his neck and presses with some force. His wince isn't subtle, and she immediately stops. "Did that hurt?"

"A little."

Writing something down on her notepad, she nods. "Lift your arm, please."

Percy's in the doctor's office for an hour. His pressure points sing with discomfort by the time she's finished, but she seems overwhelmingly certain as she writes everything up.

"I've been looking at your medical records," she tells him. "You have a history of abuse. Isn't that right? The patterns of skeletal fractures on the X-rays in your records confirmed my suspicions. I believe the pain you're feeling may be a result of fibromyalgia. It can be caused by repeated injury."

His brow furrows. "What's that?"

"Fibromyalgia as a condition isn't anything dangerous," she reassures him. "Chronic pain, stiffness and fatigue are its main symptoms, though it can also cause headaches and affect your sleep." He must've been looking troubled, because she continues, "Really, you don't need to worry. Now that you've received a diagnosis, I can prescribe you painkillers. I'll give you a leaflet with all the information you need."

"So you can't get rid of it?"

She purses her lips. "I'm afraid not. But we can manage it."

Her words echo, clanging through him. When Percy gets back into the Pontiac with a paper bag full of painkillers under his arm and a leaflet in his hand, he groans and thuds his head down onto the steering wheel. He knows he's supposed to feel relieved that someone's told him what's wrong with him, but he doesn't. He feels like the floor's slipping away beneath his feet, like someone's buried a knife between his ribs and won't pull it out. He thought he escaped the trailer without any lasting injuries thrust upon him, but he was wrong. He was _wrong_.

He heads home to his apartment, feet dragging with every step. He's tired—so fucking tired. He sits at his desk and stares for a moment at his open laptop screen. It still displays the application he sent to an apprenticeship in New York this morning. He hasn't received a response from them yet. In the moment, it feels so far out of reach that he wants to scoff.

A text from Annabeth lights up his phone: _will you come with me to church on sunday when I'm home? I was thinking about going again._

A quiet smile tugs at his mouth as he shoots back a response. s _ure!_ _can't wait to see you :)_ Thinking about her is easier than dwelling on everything else. Kicking off his shoes, he sets his phone down on his bedside table and falls back onto his bed. He knows distinctly that he has a shift soon, but maybe it wouldn't hurt to rest for a while.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Percy finds himself missing Annabeth with fervour as he finishes up his shift. The painkillers he took before heading to Lucy's actually helped—though his joints are still stiff, they don't ache so much. He feels lighter on his feet, too.

He's supposed to meet up with Piper in a few hours, so he's got some time to kill. Settling into the familiar driver's seat of the Pontiac, he switches on the radio and slowly turns the dial. Classic pop floods the car. He hasn't got anywhere to be, but he doesn't feel like going home just yet.

Faces he hasn't seen for a long time trickle through his thoughts as he drives. Rachel. Jane. People he loves, left in a place he hates. He hasn't been back there since the trial, ever since he gathered his belongings from his room and left without looking back. Rachel has probably received word of what happened by now, but he has no idea how much she knows. He should've been a better friend. Still, he doesn't think he would've survived a trip back to the trailer park. Not so soon after getting out of the hospital, anyway.

On impulse, he finds himself turning down a familiar country path. He glimpses a sign: _Trailer Park Ahead_. Slowing down, he asks himself what the hell he's thinking. No one wants to see him back there. But he doesn't stop—he keeps driving, right up to the gate. Scenes flash through his head like forks of lightning. Blood, pain, the resounding _crack_ of his own temple hitting the step. Knuckles white on the steering wheel, he takes in a shaky breath. Maybe the only way to resolve these all-encompassing memories isn't to bury them, but to confront them.

He'll never confront Gabe. Never. But returning to his childhood home before he leaves for whichever apprenticeship will take him might be the next best thing.

The rain has stopped, leaving dark water and drowned grass in its wake. Mud squelches beneath Percy's sneakers as he shuts the Pontiac's door and approaches the gate. It's a matter of muscle memory to unlock it, pushing it open. The breeze picks up as he heads down the burnt-grass path with his heart in his throat, willing himself to remain calm and logical in the face of the learned terror that washes over him.

It's loud here—louder than he remembers. Music plays somewhere. He takes a breath, then another. Resolutely refusing to look at the trailer he used to call his own, he instead crosses the path and ascends the steps of Rachel's. The light's on inside, signalling her presence. He knocks twice. From within, Rachel's mom shouts, "Darling, can you get the door?"

A familiar voice yells, "Fine." The door creaks open, and suddenly Rachel is before him. She's the same as she ever was: wheelchair-bound, a mess of freckles and frizzy red hair. The only thing that's changed is that—like him—she isn't as young as she used to be.

Uncertainly, Percy raises a hand in greeting. "Hey, Rach."

At once, a thousand emotions flit across her features: anger, confusion, relief. She chokes out, "Jackson? What the fuck?"

He rubs the back of his neck, unsure what to say. "I'm sorry for ghosting you," he tries. "I didn't mean to leave it so long—"

Looking furious, she cuts him off. "Shut up. Stop apologising."

"Um. Okay?"

"Christ, I missed you." She reaches up, tugging him down into a hug. "It's been so long. You're a dick, you know that?"

"I know." With a smile, he adds, "I missed you, too. Wanna go sit at our bench?"

"You better explain everything, alright?" she orders. The harsh words are a flimsy cover for the weariness of her voice.

"I will. Need help with your chair?" he asks. This, too, feels familiar.

She shakes her head. "No, I got it."

It feels surreal to sit down at the bench they used to sit at in the evenings, to tuck his feet under the wooden panel. Rachel eases her wheelchair into the gap at the end, a practised motion. He asks, "How much do you know about what happened?"

"Not much," she responds, drawing circles on the wood with her cherry-painted nail. "I saw your friend stab your good-for-nothing stepfather. I saw the paramedics take you away. After that…" She trails off. "I heard that you won the trial. But I didn't know if you were okay."

"I am," he says quickly. Then, measuredly: "I am now. For a while, I wasn't sure if I would be. But I got my own place, healed up and started work again. Things have gotten better."

"I felt guilty," she admits. "That I didn't fucking—contact the police about him, at the very least."

"I never wanted you to."

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, because you're annoying." A pause. "You're not stupid, though. I'm glad you pressed charges against that jackass. How many years did he get?"

"Four years. He'll be out soon."

"Fuck."

"No, it's okay. He can't touch me—I've got a restraining order."

"He should be rotting in there," she mutters. "I hate him so much, you know. I still think about that time you showed up at my door with blood on your face."

He can't bring himself to say, _So do I_. It's enough to know he's not the only person raging against Gabe for the things he did. Gently, Percy nudges her. "Rach?"

"Yeah?"

"How's your physio been going?" he asks carefully.

She sighs. "It's not going well—or at least, not any better than it ever has. Still, my mom won't let me stop trying."

"I'm glad." Percy's silent for a moment. "Either way, maybe you'll be happier when you leave. This place isn't good, you know."

"Maybe not. But it's still home." Rachel shakes her head, gaze stretching out across the trailer park. She seems downcast, but there's a spark of hope in her eyes when she turns to look at him once again. "I've started making money by selling my art. Not enough to get me and my mom out of here, but she's getting a new job in the fall. Maybe together, we can do it. I might be able to save up enough for surgery."

"You will," he insists. "I know you will."

She shakes her head with a sense of wonder. "God, it's nice to see you again. I thought I wasn't going to, that you'd fucked off for good. Hell, I wouldn't have blamed you if you had. I wouldn't blame anyone for never wanting to come back here."

"I should've, though. It was shitty of me to leave you in the dark about what happened."

"Yeah," she says bluntly. "But I understand why you did."

"You were the only good thing about living here," he tells her.

Rachel's answering smile sings of affection. "So were you."

* * *

It's Saturday night, and Percy's half-sprawled on his bed with an old graphic novel in his hands. Without warning, Annabeth walks through the door and lets her bags thud to the floor—she apparently didn't even stop by her estate after the drive back from Bobby and Matthew's care home.

"Hey," he smiles, sitting up.

She says nothing as she kicks off her shoes and hangs up her jacket. As though there's no time to waste, she's beside him in an instant and throws her arms around him. "Missed you," she mumbles, burying her face in his shoulder.

He holds onto her, latching onto the feel of her warmth. Strands of her soft hair tickle his jaw. "I wasn't expecting to see you 'til tomorrow."

"Yeah, well. I asked the cab driver to drop me here instead."

He gets it. "How are Bobby and Matthew?"

"Matthew's doing okay. Bobby, though…" Annabeth trails off. "I can't help. He thinks everything that's happened has hardened him, but he's a kid. He's a _kid_." She turns her face into the crook of Percy's neck and whispers. "I fucked up. I should never have left them."

"Hey," he chides, gently taking hold of her wrists. "We've had this conversation. You're not to blame for any of it, okay? You were barely keeping yourself alive." She looks exhausted, so he hugs her again. "Let's get some sleep. We've gotta be up early for Mass tomorrow. I'm coming with you to church, remember?"

"I remember. Thanks, by the way." Scrubbing her palms over her face, she heaves an unsteady breath. "I just—"

Percy shushes her. "We can talk tomorrow, alright? I can tell you're tired."

Tucking her knees up into her chest, she curls against him briefly and whispers, "Tomorrow. We'll deal with everything tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is the second to last chapter! the final chapter will be up on thursday. sorry about the extra day, but it's going to be a long one. thank you so much for reading, I'd love to hear what you thought! :D


	35. we'll be quiet again

The early-morning cold nips at Annabeth's skin as she closes the Pontiac's passenger door behind her, but then Percy's slipping his arm through hers, a pillar of warmth at her side. He's wearing a blue sweater—he rarely looks as soft as he does right now. "You ready?" he asks with a smile, nudging her. She lifts her eyes upwards to where their town's old church looms above them: a masquerade of unfeeling stone and colourful, life-imbued windows.

Annabeth hasn't been here in a long time, afraid of not being able to stomach the latent memories and cold guilt. A familiar spike of fear threatens to overcome her even as she takes it in, but she refuses to flinch. "Yeah," she decides cautiously. "I think I am."

She rests her pinky on the back of Percy's hand throughout the service. When it comes time for hymns, she's a little astounded at her near-perfect recall of the lyrics. Some habits endure, she supposes. Beside her, Percy's lilting voice is hoarse and out of tune. Still, it's nice singing with him.

By the time the service is over, the sun has completely risen. Fractured light floods through the arching stained-glass windows and across the pews. Annabeth feels content; the anxiety has been wrung from her system, and she's in laughing spirits when they head out of the church. "How was that?" Percy asks. "I know you were afraid to go, but…"

She leans a shoulder against the church's cold, stone exterior, watching the remains of the congregation trickle out through its mahogany doors. "It was perfect. I was terrified—I mean, I put off coming here for so long—but I'm not sure I had any reason to be. Apart from my dad, maybe," she amends. Gaze heavy on her face, Percy nods. "But I don't see him anymore."

"So, this helped?"

"More than helped," she admits. "I don't feel like I'm constantly avoiding it now, you know? I've faced it. Everything that happened…it doesn't matter as much. I'd have to believe in God a little more to ever start attending regular services, but at least I've squared everything with Him." Letting out a sigh, she rests her head against the stone wall. She imagines it breathing under her touch, alive with every heartbeat that's come here since it was built. "And it's sort of nice to return to my old routine. My old religion."

"I get that," he responds. "To feel like you've faced something, survived some kind of reckoning…" He trails off, but Annabeth hears the unspoken words. It's something he's no stranger to. Taking her hand, he draws careful circles on her palm with his thumb. "You could still go on occasion. To church," he adds. "You and your family used to do Midnight Mass on Christmas, right? I could come with you."

The idea is beautiful, but she's uncertain. "Only if you wanted to."

"Of course I'd want to," he argues. "I like going anywhere with you."

Annabeth rolls her eyes, but the heat that rises to the tips of her ears is probably noticeable. "Shut up," she tells him. Still, she's smiling.

With the overhead sunlight falling across his face and pooling in his green eyes, Percy looks ridiculously ethereal. She can't help but step up onto her tip-toes, pressing a reverent kiss to his jaw. With a grin, he responds in kind and leans down to kiss her properly. Every second that passes feels like home, and it takes a superhuman effort to eventually pull away. "There's something I need to tell you," he says suddenly, keeping a gentle hold on her hand. "Two things, actually. I wanted to last night, but you were tired when you got home."

Brow furrowing, she looks intently up at him. "What is it?"

He sighs, retracting slightly. "You know how I've been feeling stiff and sore for a while now? In my shoulders and back."

"Yeah."

"Well, I finally saw a doctor about it. It's not anything bad, but they told me what it is. Fibromyalgia."

Annabeth's heart thuds into her stomach. "Oh," she says softly. "Fibro? Isn't that a sort of chronic pain?"

He nods. "Yeah. There's some other stuff, but that's pretty much it. I've been given painkillers for it. They seem to help, but I doubt medication is gonna do anything for the fatigue."

She grips his hand tighter. "Thank you for telling me. It's good that you've got a name for it, okay? That you know what it is."

"I guess there had to be something," he murmurs. "After so many years."

That hurts Annabeth's chest. "Hey," she chides him, tugging him closer for a hug. "You don't need to dwell on it. You're stronger than that, okay? And you've got me."

He smiles into her hair. "You're pretty cool, you know."

She pulls back, mirroring his expression. "Not as cool as you."

"Fuck," he groans. "Are we one of _those_ couples?"

Annabeth laughs, and the atmosphere brightens. "What's the second thing?" she prods.

A little dazed, he asks, "Huh?"

"The second thing. You said there were two things you wanted to tell me."

"Oh," he realises, and rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. "You know how I've been applying for apprenticeships?"

"Yeah."

All at once, he says, "I probably won't get into any, but I'm applying for a few in New York."

Her jaw drops. "You are? Oh, my God." Affection washes over her, and she throws her arms around him. "That would be amazing. We could—we could live together, we wouldn't have to do long-distance…" She pauses, caught in a realisation. "You don't have to follow me to New York, though. If that's the only reason you're doing this. If if doesn't feel right."

He shoots her an indecipherable glance. "It's the only thing that feels right."

And—God. Annabeth wants to shout with euphoria, to jump up and down. Instead, she kisses him again. "You'll get in. I know you will."

He grimaces. "Don't jinx it." Still, she can tell he's happy. "You'd want to live together?"

With a shock, she registers what she said in her haste. "Oh. We don't have to."

"No, Annabeth! I'd love to. That would be—so fucking amazing, I can't even describe it." He shakes his head in awe. "We kind of already do, anyway," he jokes. "You barely sleep at the estate."

"That's true," she admits. Maybe it's unhealthy to be so attached to one person, but she can't bring herself to care.

"Don't get your hopes up, though. I haven't got into a single one yet." Linking his arm through hers, he tugs her forward. "C'mon. Let's head home."

"Can I drive?" she asks hopefully. "I'm several weeks into lessons, now. Please?"

He gives her a once-over. "Only if you promise not to crash my car. It's so old, I'm not sure it'd survive another fix-up."

"I won't crash it," she smiles, thanking him with a kiss on the cheek. Together, they head for the Pontiac.

* * *

Over the next couple of weeks, Annabeth tentatively begins to research apartments in New York near her college. No decisions can be made, of course—Percy has yet to receive any news from the different apprenticeships he applied to—but her excitement for the sheer possibility of living with him overtakes her anyway.

It turns out that Percy never had to worry. He receives a call-back from not one, but _two_ of the apprenticeships he applied for, and he doesn't stop smiling for hours afterward. "I never thought I was good enough to do mechanics, let alone engineering," he admits to her. "Even if I got accepted, I was worried I'd be too scared to go anyway."

"Why aren't you scared, then?" Annabeth asks. She's sitting on his bed with her back against the headboard. An old sitcom is playing on her laptop.

He smiles up at her from where his head's resting in her lap. "Because you'll be with me."

After that, it doesn't take long for them to find an apartment they're interested in. Still, they get into a few disagreements; while money is no object to Annabeth, it's a little more complicated for Percy. New York is an expensive city. They eventually settle on one in Brooklyn that's fairly close to Percy's apprenticeship, and Annabeth will be able to reach her classes via the subway. They'll be splitting the rent fifty/fifty. Percy seems to expect her to push back against that, and she almost wants to—it makes no sense for him to pay so much when her share will come entirely out of her trust fund—but she senses that it would hurt his pride. Besides, their friendship was always give-and-take in equal measure, and it only makes sense that their relationship should grow on that foundation too.

Annabeth turns eighteen. It's beautiful and terrifying, and July wanes into August all too quickly. Their moving date is in sight. There's a painful bittersweetness in the idea of leaving Virginia, a place that's been home for so long, but she knows it'll be good for them both. The memories she has here range from golden to radioactive; she's wanted to start afresh for a long time, but she's somehow afraid now that her blank slate is finally looming.

Leo, Piper and Jason help Annabeth and Percy move her belongings out of the estate. She's not taking much. Everything vital is in Percy's apartment, so the only things she needs from here are her nice clothes and whatever possessions she deems important: Helen's jewellery, the baroque pearl Percy gave her, old photographs of her family—including the one featuring her birth mother—and her various cameras. So far, everything fits in the back of the Pontiac, though Thalia agreed to run up some extra boxes with their things if they need her to.

Piper's dad's been away for work a lot recently. As a gesture of his support for her music career, he bought her and Shel a brand-new van for transport that can fit all their sound equipment inside. Annabeth's fairly certain guilt was Tristan's motivating factor behind the gift, but Piper's no less overjoyed by it. Having shown Leo and Annabeth the inside, she hops out and grins. "Isn't it so official?" She's wearing shorts and a vest top to combat the blustering sun. August has been scorching, and today is forecasted to be one of the hottest days of the year. The blue summer dress Annabeth is wearing feels heaven-sent right now; though it's early in the day, the cool breeze rippling past her bare legs is probably the only thing preventing her from getting sunstroke.

Leo's expression is a picture of awe. "It's so cool. You could, like, go on tours in this thing."

"That's the idea," Shel calls. Her back's turned; she's beginning to paint the van's exterior with a gorgeous blue, black and white design. When she's done with the background, she's planning to paint _The Winnowers_ in stylised font on top of it.

Curious, Piper picks up one of Shel's cans of spray paint. Walking over to the van, she grins and shakes it. Noticing what she's doing over her shoulder, Shel drops her paintbrush and spins, taking the can of paint out of Piper's hand. "Uh—babe. Leave that to me, okay?" Setting the can down, she picks up a paintbrush and holds it out, to Piper's chagrin. "I'm gonna need you to paint the panels around the wheels."

She pouts, but gives in. "Fine."

"You, too, blondie," Shel calls. "Get to painting. Leo, you can help me mix my colours. We've gotta finish by dark."

"Why's that?" Annabeth asks, grabbing a paintbrush and the tray of white paint.

"If we paint in low light, we'll probably fuck the colours up."

"She's so smart," Piper whispers to Annabeth, wide-eyed. She barely stifles her snort.

The four of them work in tandem for a while, eventually moving on to the stencils Shel made for them. It's pretty exciting; though Annabeth's never been into art unless it was in relation to photography, she can appreciate why Shel likes it so much. It's fun, and not particularly daunting when there's so many of them working on one thing. As the morning heat intensifies into noon, Piper and Shel head inside to make them all some ice-cold drinks. Leo and Annabeth slump against a tree in the shade, admiring their handiwork. "They'll probably travel all over in this van," she muses. "Isn't that crazy?"

"Yeah," he says with a smile. "They're lucky."

She tilts her head to face him, brow furrowing. "Because they get to travel?"

"Because they're on the same path."

Annabeth frowns. "Is this about you and Nico?"

He sighs. "I guess. I just wish we didn't have to do long distance, you know? He needs to finish high school, and I'm gonna be across the county." He mutters, "I should've taken a gap year, or something."

"Hey, no," she chides. "That wouldn't be right. Would you really wanna stay in this craphole of a town just to be with him?"

He admits, "You're right—it really is a craphole."

She nudges him. "Well, you're too smart to stay anyway—you're going to a goddamn Ivy League."

At that, he cracks a smile. "I am, aren't I?"

"Fuck yeah. And if long distance doesn't work, maybe you'll meet some other cute guy."

Bursting out laughing, he slaps Annabeth's arm without much force. "Don't say that, fuck. You'll get me in trouble."

As he says it, Piper emerges from her door. She's balancing a tray of Coca Cola glasses, and there's a look of concentration as she pads barefoot down her stone steps. "Who's thirsty?" she asks, laying the tray on the grass as she sits down beside them.

They all take a glass. Annabeth exhales in bliss after taking a long sip, enjoying its coolness. "Thank God—I was about to get sunstroke."

"Same," says Piper. "And we've got a lot of work left to do on the van."

"We'll get it finished," Annabeth reassures her.

Leo chimes in, "Don't worry—you'll be able to go on your sapphic road trip."

At that, Piper laughs. "We won't be travelling until we've actually organised a tour, idiot. We're still a new band."

Annabeth's silent for a moment, contemplating what'll be like when Piper and Shel's music begins to grow in popularity. Sighing, she murmurs, "I can't believe I'm leaving for New York next week."

"The city that never sleeps," Leo says with a hint of grandeur, mixing around the ice in his drink with a straw.

"I doubt we'll be living very recklessly," Annabeth laughs.

Piper smiles, affection written into the curve of her mouth. "Seems like you and Percy are joint at the hip, nowadays," she says. There's no judgement in her voice—only understanding.

She nods, playing with the grass at her ankles. "Yeah, well. I guess we've always been like that." Heaving a quiet sigh, she looks up through the trees lilting branches and into the dappling sunlight. "It's going to be heaven. Living somewhere so exciting."

"With some _one_ so exciting," Piper teases, then yelps when Annabeth kicks her with a laugh. "You're gonna be hundreds of miles away. I can hardly believe it."

"Neither can I," she says. "You guys are coming for Christmas, though. Right?"

Leo rolls his eyes. "'Course. Do I look like I know to microwave a turkey?"

Piper looks affronted. " _Microwave a_ —fucking hell, Valdez."

"What?" he shoots back in defence. "I don't know how to cook!"

"You put turkeys in the oven to roast them," Annabeth gently informs him. "I'm pretty sure you can defrost them in the microwave, though."

Piper's looking at them both strangely. Annabeth opens her mouth to say something but before she can, Piper tackles them both in a hug. "I'm gonna miss you two so fucking much."

Annabeth hums and relaxes into the hug, a glowing warmth in her chest. "Love you too," she mumbles, voice muffled in the fabric of Piper's vest top. She remembers the days when their group had been just the three of them, caught up in an arms race against the rest of the unkind world.

When they pull away, Leo's eyes are damp. "God, I'm crying. What the fuck?"

She laughs wetly. "Everything's only getting better from here on out, yeah? Not worse. Better."

Piper nods, summoning a smile. "You're right. Leo's gonna get rich, I'm gonna get famous, and Annabeth's gonna get paid to take my press photos."

Annabeth gapes, whacking her arm. "Not a chance in hell. I'll be working for _Vogue_ , you asshole." They keep laughing and talking and eventually, Shel comes out to join them with the snacks. All at once, Annabeth allows herself to believe that everything is going to be okay.

* * *

The day before she and Percy are due to set off for New York, she says goodbye to Bobby and Matthew—they've got to head back to their group home. Though she knows she'll see them again soon, being so far apart from them is going to hurt. She's left them so many times in the past.

Matthew's eyes begin to water when she hugs him tight, burying her nose in his mousy-brown curls. "I'm coming back, okay? You know I am." He nods, but Annabeth isn't certain he believes her. Still, she squeezes him one last time before pulling away. King's pawing at Annabeth's ankle, his lead wrapped around Matthew's wrist.

Bobby glowers at her, but she can tell his cold exterior is—on the most part—a facade. Instead of hugging him, she gently cups his shoulder and gives him the warmest look she can. "You two can come up to visit me as many times as you want, and I'll come back down to Virginia every few weeks. I'm _not_ leaving you," she repeats, with emphasis.

His expression doesn't change, but he gives her an almost imperceptible nod. Without warning, he hugs her tight. "Bye, Annie." Relieved, she hugs him back.

King is still pawing at her, so she crouches down to cuddle him, heart breaking a little at the softness of his long, golden fur as she cards it between her fingers. The weight of the years they've spent apart have piled up between them. "You're a good dog, huh?" He whines as he noses into her hand. "I'll miss you," she whispers, giving him a final scratch behind the ears. Even though King's technically her dog, she can tell Matthew's bonded with him since he and Bobby went to live at the group home.

"You can take him, if you want," Matthew offers. "You might need him in New York." The unspoken words ring loud to Annabeth: _You might get lonely._

Annabeth smiles quietly. Standing up, she shakes her head. "It's okay—I've got Percy to keep me company. Besides, you need him more than I do." Matthew seems thankful that she didn't accept the offer, and she doesn't blame him. Gathering the two of them into one last hug, she says goodbye one last time.

* * *

It's early morning when she and Percy set off in the Pontiac, waved off by their grinning friends with _Empire State of Mind_ blaring on the radio. Everything of importance is in the trunk, and an extant kind of euphoria bubbles up in Annabeth's gut. Percy picks up speed, switching into the highway's fast lane. They're going to be driving for hours and catching whatever sleep they can get in the backseat, but Annabeth can't bring herself to mind. She can't stop looking at Percy, either; with tousled hair and an ever-present smile on his face, he looks effervescent. Like a fucking deity.

"What?" he asks lightheartedly, glancing at her as he fiddles with the radio's dial.

She laughs, shaking her head. "Nothing."

They drive until darkness has long since fallen, at which point Percy parks the car on a deserted hard shoulder and stretches, clicking his back. "God, I'm tired. Do you want to switch now, or sleep for a while?"

Annabeth hesitates—they've got a long way to go. Still, she can feel her eyelids drooping. She tried to nap earlier on in preparation for her shift, but was easily thwarted by her insomnia. "Yeah, let's sleep for a while," she decides.

A gleam enters Percy's eye. He glances out the window. "It's a warm night," he comments.

"I guess." Then, "Oh, no. We're not sleeping outside."

He grins. "Not outside. Just, y'know—on the back of the trunk. It'll be like that night at the machine shop."

Annabeth is instantly tugged back into the memory: lying on the hood of that bashed-in car, staring at the stars with Percy at her side. She wants to protest, but nostalgia wins over. Shooting him a long-suffering glance, she sighs. "Fine."

They grab the blankets and sleeping mats from the backseat and lay them on the Pontiac's flat trunk, laughing as they hoist themselves up. Annabeth feels for all the world like they're rebelling as they lie down, bodies close and hands intertwined. It's a clear night, and it's easier than anything to become enraptured by the stars. So far out in the middle of nowhere, the sky is a panorama of glistening silver. "I don't know how I'm not used to this by now," Percy says softly, as though he doesn't want to disrupt the moment.

"Used to what?" she asks, shifting slightly to reposition her head on his shoulder.

"Just…this. Being close. Having company." He pauses. "Feeling secure."

Annabeth smiles. "It's like a dream, huh?" she whispers back.

Wordlessly, he nods. Out of the blue, he murmurs, "I gave my mom something before we left. Visited her while you said goodbye to your brothers."

"What'd you give her?"

"Graphic novels," he says, a little embarrassedly. "The first few volumes of this series I liked as a kid."

Propping herself up on an elbow, she smiles down at him. "That Sandman series? I remember. Didn't I give you a few volumes for your birthday?"

"Yeah. I loved you because of that, back then."

Heat rises to the tips of her ears, but she refuses to let him render her speechless. "What about now?" she asks, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He grins, looking a little overcome. "Yeah—I love you now. I'm pretty sure I always will, Annabeth Chase."

"I love you, too," she admits. Carefully, she pushes a strand of his soft, dark hair out of his eyes and kisses him. He kisses her back, fingertips light against her cheek. It's easier than anything to linger on his lips for a few blissful moments, but eventually she has to pull away. "We should sleep," she says regretfully. "We've got a long drive ahead of us."

Percy hums, and the yawn he lets out sounds like sleep incarnate. "You're probably right."

"I always am," she informs him, laying back down to curl into his warmth. "You're like a human radiator."

"And you're a human ice block," he responds, tugging her close. He mumbles, "Goodnight."

It's not even dawn before they're driving again, this time with Annabeth behind the wheel. She hasn't taken the test yet, but she's a decent driver and she's nearly done with lessons. Percy seems to trust her not to crash his beloved Pontiac, but he still tenses whenever she accidentally runs an amber light. "It wasn't _red_ ," is her usual defence, to which he always groans.

Several hours later, they finally glimpse the skyline of New York City. Annabeth gasps, gaze locking on the horizon. Percy's equally overwhelmed; to a couple of small-towners, a place so huge seems like another universe altogether. "We're going to live there," Annabeth says slowly, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel.

Percy meets her eyes, grinning. "I know. It feels like home already."

After a lifetime of driving through Brooklyn, backtracking, and arguing over the map, they eventually locate their apartment building. For now, they leave their things in the car—they're too excited to see the place where they'll be living. As they ascend the stairs, she mutters, "It's gonna be like living up in the goddamn sky."

Percy laughs aloud at that, and the sound echoes through the stairwell. At last, they reach their floor and burst into their apartment. His jaw drops as he walks into the space, taking it all in. It's mostly an open floor plan—the windows are large and north-facing, allowing swathes of sunlight to paint the white walls. There's no furniture, but Annabeth likes the idea of filling this place with whatever they want. She can't help but squeal, throwing her arms around Percy. "This is amazing. God, this is so amazing."

His hands find her waist and he spins her around, smiling stupidly. Warm light washes over them where they're standing. "I know. God, I know. I can't believe we get to live here."

"Well, believe it," she tells him. Loosely resting her arms around the back of his neck, she leans into him and begins to sway—like a slow-dance. He rests his chin on her shoulder, letting out a pent-up breath. "Do you think we're co-dependent?" she asks in time with their slow, unhurried steps.

Smiling, he shrugs. "Does it matter?"

"I guess not."

He kisses her again. "It's quieter here than I thought it'd be. It's nice. Like a little part of Virginia came with us." Annabeth can't think about anything other than Percy. Right now, she feels both infinitesimally old and painfully young. Eighteen: an age of new beginnings.

Cheek flush with the fabric of Percy's shirt, she closes her eyes and breathes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After several months straight of working on this fic, I honestly can't believe it's over? Hopefully you enjoyed it, I'd love to hear what you thought! I'm feeling pretty emotional about leaving the world of LWTH but I'm mostly glad to be able to work on other things. The upload schedule has lowkey been hell—but at least I've gotten faster at writing lmao.
> 
> Thank you so, so much to everyone who's commented and kept up with this fic! You're incredible and I love you all to the moon and back. I'm still working on some pjo fic behind the scenes, but for the next month or so I'll be posting some atla one-shots on this account, which will be under a pseud on my profile to keep things organised. I'll definitely be back, so watch this space! You can subscribe to my user if you like to avoid missing anything :) I'm currently active on [my tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/stolen-arts) so feel free to come chat to me over there. [Here](https://www.pinterest.co.uk/stolen_arts/laying-waste-to-halloween/) is the aesthetic board I used while writing this btw, in case you're interested!
> 
> A final thank you—hopefully you're all safe and doing well. Sending love :)


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